


Harry Potter & The April Fool's Day Prank

by Transgressions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Potions Accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transgressions/pseuds/Transgressions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ron sneaks Harry a dose of Amortentia, not even he was prepared for the consequences. Turns out, Amortentia works by whomever the victim first looks at. Just Harry's luck that it happens to be his hated nemesis, Professor Snape. Semi-HBP compliant. Originally posted on ff.net in 2008-10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prank

###  **

The Prank

**

March had passed, and now with April upon them, Hermione was actually starting to have an effect on Ron and Harry. Her study schedules were pasted into each of their text books and they didn’t complain nearly as often as usual when she dragged them to the library. They needed to do well this year to write their NEWTs. April the first dawned with Harry and Ron grumbling, wishing for Quidditch practice instead of a study session that evening.

For not being a morning person, Ron was fairly chipper, Harry noticed. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan joined them and Hermione in the common room. Neville hurried to follow them as they left through the portrait. They all seemed rather anxious and preoccupied, and Harry felt like he was missing something.

‘Do we…have a test today?’ he asked Ron. The red-head seemed lost in thought, a faint smile on his face. He turned finally.

‘Test? Not that I know of. Hermione?! Do we have a test?’ he asked their friend, now sounding slightly panicked.

Hermione shook her head, refusing, it seemed, to look at Harry.

‘Not until next week, in Transfiguration.’

Harry relaxed, but he knew something was going on. He just couldn’t quite place it. Even Neville seemed more nervous than usual, and Dean and Seamus were talking quietly together with huge grins plastered on their faces. As they approached the Great Hall, Hermione finally huffed loudly and tossed her hair over her shoulder, walking past them to Gryffindor table.

‘Wonder what’s with her,’ Ron said, scowling. Harry shrugged as they moved towards the table. Hermione saw them approach and glowered, moving further down the table. Neville turned rather pink and Seamus and Dean’s grins grew. Ron looked mildly pleased. Harry sighed. He was now sure there was some sort of tension between Ron and Hermione that was causing them to act this way. Perhaps Dean, Seamus and Neville had witnessed it while he was meeting with Dumbledore one evening. Yes, that would explain it.

Students and staff were now trickling into the hall as food appeared on the table. Ron, Hermione and Harry’s first class was double Potions. It made Harry feel rather ill. Slughorn had been captured by Death Eaters in late August and Snape had moved back to his previous post as Potions professor, with Dumbledore filling in until a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor could be secured. Even with April dawning, the post had yet to be filled.

Loading up on scrambled eggs and toast, Harry poured himself a generous goblet of pumpkin juice. He would need all the strength he could get for his first class. Snape had been merciless in his teaching and Harry had reluctantly retrieved his sixth year text book from the Room of Requirement. He copied down all the suggestions he could, to apply to other potions and even went so far as to check out books on potions basics from the library. He maintained an adequate mark in Potions, but that was as long as he paid strict attention and never let his attention waver. And with recent nightmares and visions and more and more news pouring in about Death Eater activity, Harry had more than enough to distract himself during class. It took all his willpower to make it through a Potions class.

Ron leaned over the table with a smirk.

‘Guess what?’

Harry tipped his head, his mouth full of scrambled eggs, to show his interest.

‘Remember this from Slughorn’s class last year?’

He brought out a small phial of a shimmering liquid.

‘Amortentia,’ Harry blurted, blowing a few bits of egg back onto his plate. Ron’s smirk grew as he nodded.

‘You aren’t going to _use_ that?’ Harry asked, alarmed. Wasn’t that the most powerful love potion in the world?

‘Why not?’ Ron asked, his expression clouding with dismay. ‘Seamus, Dean and I worked hard on it. It’s ours to use!’

Harry rolled his eyes at his impetuous friend.

‘You really want someone to fall in love with you because of a potion?’

‘No,’ Ron said dreamily, turning the phial over and over, watching the potion glob down to the opposite end, over and over. ‘It affects you based on the first person you see after you take it. It’s real dangerous, Harry.’

Harry lowered his fork, feeling suddenly very uneasy. Was this the Ron he knew?

‘Then why did you make it? Why don’t _they_ have any?’ he asked, gesturing over to Seamus and Dean who were sniggering loudly a few seats further down the table. Neville was pushing his eggs around his plate with his fork, staring at them, his face rather red.

Ron shrugged.

‘They both have girlfriends. They didn’t want any.’

Harry shook his head in puzzlement, digging back into his meal with fervour; they only had a few minutes left before class. He saw Ron reach for him across the table in his peripheral vision, and looked up. Ron flushed slightly pink, but looked rather smug.

‘What?’ Harry asked, now feeling incredibly confused. He looked down the table at Hermione. She was staring at them and looked rather upset. She slammed her hands down on the table and stood, marching angrily out of the Great Hall.

‘And what’s with her!’ Harry cried, his frustration with his friends today growing. He sighed and took a deep drink from his pumpkin juice, feeling like he should perhaps do the same and leave before he exploded something. Or someone.

As he drank, he noticed a gentle tingle go down his throat and settle in his stomach. A surging warmth spread to all his limbs and a pins and needles sensation started in his hands and feet. He finished draining his goblet, but held it to his face, staring into the cup.

‘Ron,’ he said in a cold and deadly voice, ‘did you put that stuff in my juice?’

He heard his friend shift uncomfortably across the table.

‘RON!’ he bellowed, launching to his feet, his eyes slammed shut. He threw the goblet across the table as hard as he could.

‘Oi!’ his friend cried, as he dove for cover. Seamus and Dean burst into roaring laughter. Harry growled, his eyes still shut hard. Now what was he going to do? The tingling continued in his limbs, even when he tried to shake it off. Obviously from the damn potion.

‘Here, mate, I’ll take you to Potions,’ Ron muttered, having come up beside him.

‘Oh? And why should I trust you after what you just did!’ Harry yelled. He could feel eyes all over the Great Hall turning on him.

‘They told me it’d be funny,’ he said as he took Harry’s arm and steered him towards the exit. They obviously meant Dean and Seamus. Harry sighed exasperatedly and let Ron lead him. He knew they were almost out when he heard Draco Malfoy’s cackling laughter.

‘The stupid leading the blind!’ he cried with glee. ‘I wouldn’t trust Weasel like that, if I were you, Potter.’

The journey down to the dungeons was challenging, due to the great amount of stairs. When they reached their destination and entered the classroom, he heard Hermione gasp.

‘Oh, Ron, you _didn’t_.’

‘What, you _knew_ he was going to do that?’ Harry exploded. ‘And you didn’t stop him?!’ 

He heard Hermione’s sigh.

‘Harry, he made me promise.’

Ron led Harry to a seat beside her and let him flop into his chair.

‘So who’s going to ask Snape for an antidote?’ he wondered aloud. ‘Because it isn’t going to be me. I didn’t get myself into this mess, you did,’ he told them accusingly. This wasn’t what he was supposed to be dealing with right now. Not with the impending NEWTs, and Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and everything else going on.

He heard his friends whispering as more students entered the classroom.

‘So?’ he said loudly. His eyes hurt from being clenched shut for so long. But he couldn’t risk opening them. He heard Hermione grumble, but she didn’t say anything to him.

‘It’ll be alright, mate,’ Ron told him from the other side of Hermione. ‘It wears off in a little under an hour.’

‘How,’ Harry ground out, ‘am I supposed to do my Potions assignment with my eyes shut?’

His question was met with silence from his friends. The rustle of students finding desks was interrupted by the snapping sound of someone’s robes.

_Great, Snape’s here_ , Harry thought sarcastically. To him, it seemed like suicide to ask the surly Potions master for an antidote to a love potion, but he had no other choice. He was determined to do well in Potions and having to keep his eyes clenched shut for the next hour wasn’t going to help him.

He struggled to get out of his desk to go ask before class started, but he tripped on his robes and sprawled to the dungeon floor. His face turned to the floor, he opened his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He heard snickers across the classroom and his cheeks burned.

‘Mr Potter, I will ask you only once today to stay in your desk properly,’ he heard Snape’s silky voice from above him. He closed his eyes again and pushed himself to his feet.

‘Sorry, sir,’ he mumbled, putting his hands out to find his desk. His face with flushed with embarrassment. Now, he knew he couldn’t ask. It would be too mortifying.

He felt hands on his shoulders as Snape spun him around. Harry’s eyes flew open in surprise.

‘Mr Potter, why in the name of Merlin are you bumbling about like a fool?’

Snape was speaking, but Harry didn’t hear him. His face went from flushed to a bright red. Snape stopped speaking and saw the look of utter terror in Harry’s eyes and released him. The classroom was silent, so he easily heard Hermione’s whispered ‘ _oh my God_ ’. Snape was overcome with a feeling of dread, like he had just made a very wrong move. Every student’s eyes were locked on Harry and himself.

‘Sit down, Mr Potter,’ he said quietly. Harry gaped like a fish and moved away from him, but not to sit down as he had requested. The boy had collapsed in a dead faint.


	2. Potter's Predicament

### 

**Potter's Predicament**

Harry felt magic surge through his body as he was awoken with a spell. Snape stood over him, scowling, wand drawn. Hermione sat beside his head and Ron peered at him from the desk above. The tingling sensation that had taken over his limbs was gone. He groaned to himself as he remembered looking at Snape, the first person he had laid eyes on after taking Amortentia.

‘Are you able to remain here for class?’ Snape sneered as Harry sat up stiffly. He winced at Snape’s tone.

‘Yes,’ Harry replied, trying not to snap. Snape raised an eyebrow irritatingly at him.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Yes, _sir_ ,’ Harry amended. Snape nodded and went back to the front of the class.

With his friends’ help, he clambered back into his desk, turning slightly pink as he realized the entire class was staring at him. Snape was scrawling potion instructions across the board.

‘I believe Mr Potter’s display has already taken up enough of our time. Get to work. This potion will be your project for this month.’

Harry felt a flare of anger at Snape’s words, but felt a cold sinking feeling as he saw the directions for Veritaserum written on the board. Thankfully, as he had said, it would take a month to brew. He found himself noticing Snape’s hand as he wrote on the board. Pale long fingers gripped the chalk, the hand jerked as it wrote the spiky letters Snape’s writing was infamous for. It was rhythmic and hypnotizing. He heard Ron sniggering beyond Hermione. He wasn’t taking notes or gathering ingredients, he was just staring.

‘Potter! Stop staring at the board like an impudent blockhead and get to work.’

Harry jumped and frantically scratched down the writing off the board. He flushed, realizing the Amortentia was taking its effect. He sighed internally, wondering how infatuated the potion was going to make him. He glanced over at Ron, who was grinning at him.

‘ _I hate you_ ,’ he mouthed, scowling. His friend looked away, but his grin never faded.

They worked individually, and Harry was glad of it, still angry with his friends. Hermione hadn’t told him and Ron had put this whole mess into motion. It was all their fault he was going to go nuts for Snape. _Snape_ , of all people! He would never forgive them. He had enough on his plate without having to worry about whether he was drooling over his professor or not.

Harry began stewing the frozen Ashwinder eggs that Snape had distributed in a solution of water and essence of sneezewort. He prodded at the blue flames beneath his cauldron and they turned a gentle pink. He needed the weakest flame possible, as the Ashwinder eggs were prone to spontaneous combustion as they defrosted. A muffled bang from across the classroom announced that not everyone had done their background reading for the class. Snape brushed by to take care of the explosion and Harry felt rather dazed. The action had blown Snape’s individual scent across Harry’s face. He leaned back and took a deep breath, smelling parchment and the slightly sulphuric smell of matches, though he knew that it was the smell of the green flame used to brew Calming Draught (a very popular item in the infirmary due to Voldemort’s activities and the upcoming NEWTs). There was the slightly stringent smell of Firewhiskey in Snape’s wake. Harry sighed, though he didn’t precisely know why.

By the end of class, two other cauldrons had blown up, and Harry was particularly proud that his could not be counted in those that had exploded. His egg and sneezewort mixture was a pasty green and sloshed with a milk-like consistency as he put it on the stewing racks, readjusting the pink flames beneath it. It would simmer until Friday.

‘Be prepared to add your next ingredients as soon as you enter class on Friday,’ Snape announced as class wrapped up. His eyes met Harry’s for a brief moment and Harry could feel warmth rise in his cheeks. He turned away. _This is bad_ , he thought. _Very bad_.

He left class with the image of Severus Snape burned into his mind. He heard hurried footsteps coming up behind him.

‘If it’s any consolation,’ Ron started as he came up beside Harry.

‘It isn’t,’ Harry snapped. Hermione came up on his other side.

‘Harry, if you want the truth-’

‘I don’t.’

Hermione looked across Harry to Ron with desperation in her eyes. Ron merely shrugged and grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

‘April Fool’s, mate.’

Harry slapped his hand away and stormed off.

 

Harry was exhausted by the time Friday came around and he wandered into Potions. He had avoided Ron and Hermione since Wednesday, bunking in the Room of Requirement the previous night just to escape them. He scoffed at Ron’s prediction that the Amortentia would wear off in an hour. He had looked it up. It could last weeks, or even months without re-dosing. He imagined himself in his bedroom at number 4 Privet Drive, pining away for Severus Snape for the summer holiday. It made him feel sick.

He had visited the kitchens rather than go to the Great Hall for breakfast, and the classroom was still empty. Pulling his potion down off the stewing rack, and was pleased to see the bright orange mixture bubbling away. Just as it should be.

Setting up early, Harry propped open his Potions text and the scribbled instructions from Wednesday’s class. Nervously he began assembling the ingredients he would need to add that class. A small part of him hoped Snape would come in, see him eager to learn, and praise him. But in reality, he knew that Snape would most likely just be irritated he was so early and deduct points. One of the ingredients to add was some powdered red moonstone, which Snape would be supplying. Content to wait for his professor to arrive, Harry began chopping a handful of peppermint.

The dungeon door slammed open and Snape entered, robes billowing menacingly. He held a large green mug of something that was steaming. He paused behind his desk, taking a long, thoughtful drink, his eyes narrowing in Harry’s direction.

‘Potter, what are you doing here?’

‘Working on my potion, sir,’ Harry answered rather meekly. The smell of strong coffee reached him as Snape marched over to inspect his cauldron.

‘I can get you the moonstone, if you wish.’

Harry looked up at Snape, who still looked rather sleepy over his mug. Harry decided he would capitalize on this fortunate mood.

‘Yes, please.’

Snape moved away towards his private stores and Harry shakily continued to chop his peppermint. Snape passed his desk almost silently, dropping a small cup of pink powder on his desk as he returned to the front of the classroom.

‘This is only my first cup,’ Snape muttered, lifting his mug. ‘I will be functioning regularly when I get to my third.’ With that, he left the dungeon.

Harry smiled to himself as he shook the cup of moonstone into his potion, stirring counter-clockwise. Snape wasn’t fully awake yet. That explained the lack of hostility. By the time he had his potion at a pale grey colour and the consistency of melted chocolate, other students had started to arrive.

‘Ohhh, Harry, yours looks good!’ Hermione commented, as she walked around to sit beside him, forgetting that they weren’t really on speaking terms. ‘How early did you get here?’

Harry shrugged and he could see Hermione’s bright smile fade out of the corner of his eye. She piled her books on her desk then moved across the room to get her cauldron. Snape had returned, and looked like his regular, sour self at last. Harry almost let himself smile as he approached Harry’s cauldron.

‘You obviously didn’t add enough peppermint. Don’t think that because you arrived early, you have any skill in potion brewing, Mr Potter.’ He vanished the potion with a wave of his wand. ‘Begin again.’

Harry felt his stomach harden in a knot. He breathed in Snape’s heavy redolence, felt his stormy presence in front of him, but he suddenly felt none of the earlier warmth towards him. He felt humiliated hatred for the man. Had the Amortentia worn off?

Looking up at Snape with a furious glance, Harry saw the smirk.

‘I’ll get you more Ashwinder eggs, shall I?’

Oh Merlin, he looked so good.

As Snape swept into his private stores again, Harry groaned to himself. No, the Amortentia was still in full force. Harry desperately wished they could interact like they had earlier that morning. No spite, no hatred. But he knew it was just wishful thinking, after all.

 

Snape had certainly been surprised when he had got his first cup of coffee from the staff room and wandered down to his classroom, only to find Potter diligently cutting up his peppermint.

_What the bloody hell is **he** doing here_ , Snape thought to himself. It was strange enough that Potter had actually appeared to be exerting effort in his class this year, but now he was coming in early? He was worse than that insufferable Granger. Snape’s sleepy mellowness caused him to go against his better judgement and actually help the boy, before leaving to refill his coffee and get the basic sustenance he needed to survive managing a class of dimwitted NEWT students.

Once his wits were sharpened, Snape decided he would take a moment to cut Potter down and remind him that he was indeed no master at Potions. His potion actually had looked fairly decent, compared to something Weasley might have produced, but it wasn’t exactly precise. Snape knew he could do better and decided to push him a bit, much to Potter’s obvious irritation.

Snape watched Harry from across the classroom, bent over his cauldron, still fuming. He smirked, wondering if would maintain control over his emotions or explode. By the end of the class, the Potions professor was almost impressed. Potter had calmed himself down and had produced an even better potion. Unfortunately, he was now a whole class behind. But at least there were the three students also at the same stage, due to their exploded potions from Wednesday. Snape had no doubt that eventually several other students would fall behind when they ruined their potion during later steps.

As the students left his classroom, Snape made his way over to the seventh year stewing racks and peered over the various potions.

‘I’ll have to come in on Sunday to add the moonstone and peppermint, right?’

Harry was the last student in the classroom, and he gave Snape a hard stare. He still was furious that he had vanished his potion. Snape returned the stare with a sneer.

‘Exactly. I _am_ amazed that _you_ , of all people, realized the timing of your next ingredients. It seems your peers might have made the wrong assumption if they are going to wait until Monday.’

Harry shifted and turned slightly pink, completely aware that the Potions master had just given him a thinly veiled compliment. It made him feel rather warm all over, and his stomach fluttered briefly.

‘After that, you may put a quickening charm on it so that you may keep up with the others, but it will only work during that stage, so do not forget.’

‘I won’t,’ Harry answered, shaking his head. Smiling to himself as he turned away, Harry left the classroom, feeling significantly better about his relationship with the greasy Potions Master.


	3. Detention Surprise

### 

**Detention Surprise**

Harry woke early on Sunday, excitement coursing through his entire body. He was going to see Snape. Harry shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the thought as he threw his feet out of bed. No, he was excited to add his next ingredients, not to see Snape. Snape was, after all, the reason he had to get out of bed at seven o’clock on a Sunday to do schoolwork. He looked jealously over at Ron, slumbering soundly, as he pulled his robes on. He gathered his Potions materials and made his way down to the Great Hall to grab breakfast before continuing on to the dungeons.

The Great Hall was, as Harry fully expected, devoid of any students. The only other in the hall happened to be Snape himself, nursing his green mug of coffee, leaning against the end of the Slytherin table. Judging by the scowl on his face, Harry guessed it was his third cup.

‘Potter!’ he snapped across the hall. ‘Did you remember your iron knife? Your peppermint will wilt if you use your silver knife.’

Harry sighed.

‘ _Yes_ , sir.’

Snape gave him a disgruntled look, as if he had desperately wanted him to say no. Harry held back the urge to roll his eyes and grabbed a piece of toast from the table and downed a goblet of pumpkin juice, not even bothering to sit down.

‘I will be down shortly,’ Snape told him as he left the hall. Harry’s insides began to squirm uncomfortably. He had been so close to him he could smell his coffee. Harry had finished chopping his peppermint by the time Snape swept into the classroom.

‘Is this enough, sir?’ he asked, trying to keep the insolence out of his voice. Snape looked down his nose at him, his lip curling unpleasantly.

‘If that’s what the directions call for,’ he answered cryptically, disappearing into his stores. Harry stifled a growl. He reread the directions and chopped another stem up.

The small container of moonstone landed on his desk with a muted _tap_. Snape stood over him menacingly.

‘Hurry up, you’re wasting precious grading time,’ he said. Harry clenched his jaw at his conflicting emotions. Hatred for his professor, and the treacherous way his body was responding to the proximity of the older man. A tingly feeling ran through his stomach when he breathed in Snape’s thick, musty scent. As he finished up, Harry cast the quickening charm to make sure his potion would be ready for Monday’s class. Snape impatiently flicked his wand and sent the cauldron soaring back to the stewing racks.

‘You’re finished. Out.’

Feeling highly disappointed with the exchange and irritated that he still childishly wanted Snape to say something nice to him, Harry couldn’t help the mocking repetition that fell from his lips.

‘ _You’re finished. Ou-_ ’

Snape whirled back around, his eyes narrowed in an icy glare before Harry finished the sentence.

‘Detention, Potter,’ he hissed. ‘Tomorrow, at eight.’

 

'Then he gave me detention,' Harry groaned over lunch, having hurriedly made up with Ron and Hermione specifically to whinge about his misfortune. 'As if coming in on a Sunday wasn't bad enough.'

Hermione gave him a stern look.

'You did talk back to him, Harry.'

'But he's-!'

'He's just a greasy old git,' Ron finished, ignoring Hermione's defence of Snape. 'The worst he'll probably make you do is clean some cauldrons.'

' _Probably?_ ' Harry moaned. Ron gave him a sympathetic look.

'Well, I guess he could have you bottling Plimpy foetuses or something.'

Harry's shoulders sagged. He had a feeling it would be much worse than cleaning cauldrons, or even bottling disgusting ingredients.

 

Snape poured over the ancient tome, sprinkling dried woodlice over the simmering periwinkle potion. His breath disturbed some dust from the pages and he wrinkled his nose to keep from sneezing. His eyes flickered toward the door as Harry walked in. It had been a very trying day, with a class of first years after the NEWT class in the morning. Now he had a detention with Harry Potter. His mood was not at its best and he was brewing a potion to relax.

He ignored Harry for the moment until the potion started to thicken. He stirred and added a few more sprinkles of woodlice as the irritating boy chose to stand on the other side of the cauldron, peering inquisitively at the contents.

‘Sir?’

‘It’s an experimental potion, Potter. I am drawing from two others to make a stronger nerve depressant for Cruciatus victims.’

Harry nodded silently, his mind drifting to Neville’s parents. Snape continued, finding it strangely calming to be describing his work.

‘I have yet to add the viper venom. It’s a paltry substitute, as this potion,’ he waved over the ancient text to his left, ‘requires Basilisk poison. Yet, as you probably are completely ignorant of knowing, it is quite difficult to come by.’

Harry felt his stomach harden into a knot. A sudden desire to please overcame his detest of the professor.

‘Well, how do you get it?’

‘Get _what_ , Mr Potter?’

‘Basilisk poison. Do you just need a fang, or do you need like a venom sac or something?’

Snape glowered at him.

‘And _why_ , pray tell, would you even care to know?’

Harry didn’t even try to hide his dramatic eye roll.

‘Because there’s a big dead snake in the Chamber of Secrets?’

A look of enthusiastic comprehension spread over Snape’s face as he remembered Harry’s second year.

‘But I guess we have to start my detention,’ Harry said innocently. Snape smirked.

‘For your detention, you will be taking me to the Chamber of Secrets, Potter.’

 

Moaning Myrtle only stared at Harry for a moment before drifting over to him, her hands clasped piteously.

‘You never visit me anymore,’ she gasped. Snape had followed Harry in and seemed rather disgusted by the fact that they were now standing in a dank bathroom.

‘Well, ah…’ Harry stammered as Snape fixed them with a glare. ‘You know, lots of…school, and well, girls’…girls’ toilets…’

He awkwardly made his way over to the sink and commanded the entrance open with a gentle hiss. Snape’s eyes widened and Harry thought he saw the man tremble.

‘After you,’ he sneered, when Harry made no move to enter. Sighing, Harry cast a cushioning charm into the pipe and slid down. He quickly moved out of the way as the squeaky screech of Snape sliding down behind him echoed down into the passageway. Bones crunched beneath his feet and he gave an involuntary shudder. Snape stood after dumping gracefully into the tunnel and beat at his robes impatiently, trying to remove the sludge they’d gathered from the slippery journey down.

‘Well?’

Harry motioned for him to follow as they travelled the winding tunnel. They remained silent, the damp cold seeping through their robes unpleasantly. It wasn’t long before they came across the giant Basilisk skin, still in a massive, poisonous green pile. Harry heard Snape’s sharp intake of breath from behind him.

‘Useful?’ he asked, turning. The Potions Master nodded and with a wave of his wand, shrank the skin with an unfamiliar but powerful sounding shrinking charm, and then pocketed it with gleaming eyes. Harry knew what they gathered would probably be considered priceless in the Potions community, but he didn’t much care about any earning potential.

They continued onwards to the chamber, where Harry had killed the great snake five years earlier. The skeleton lay sprawling before them, the bones gleaming white in the darkness, covered in split webs of skin. Snape cast a lighting spell and the entire chamber glowed. He hurried over to the skeleton, which, by the choking smell, was not fully decayed yet.

Harry was not all that interested in the remains of the creature that had almost killed him when he was twelve, so he set to explore the rest of the room. He looked around all the pillars and approached the statue of Salazar Slytherin at the end curiously. He could see no reason to build a great big stone room only to house a great big stone statue and a big murderous snake. Though he couldn’t begin to guess at the workings of Slytherin’s mind, he was quite sure there was probably more than met the eye concerning the Chamber of Secrets.

The imposing statue towered over him, but Harry felt none of the trepidation from when he had faced down the ghost of Tom Riddle. He circled it, but his initial search yielded nothing. The statue seemed uniform and nothing graced the wall except a single torch bracket. Harry glanced a little further up the great statue and felt a jolt of excitement when he noticed a small detail on Slytherin’s robe. A detail that could easily be a switch.

He reached for it and his fingers barely met it. He pushed, pulled and tried to toggle the detail, but it would not move. Sighing, he withdrew his hand and stepped back. The moment he stepped, he felt the stone floor beneath him grate and a large section of wall behind him spun around with little more than a gentle thud as the secret door closed, revealing another plain section of wall, minus the torch bracket.

‘Potter?’ Snape called. He had heard Harry doing something over at the other end of the chamber, by the statue, then there had been the grating sound of stone against stone, and now only the faint dripping of old water could be heard. ‘ _Potter_.’

Against his better judgement, Snape left the materials he was harvesting from the Basilisk skeleton and made his way over to the statue.

‘So help me Potter, if you are trying to trick me…’

But Harry was gone. Snape felt his irritation mount, with a small prickle of fear as he looked high and low, with no Harry to be found.

‘ _Potter!_ ’

 

But Harry was perfectly safe and far too distracted to realize Snape might have been looking for him. The wall had spun him into a set of chambers that very well might have been Salazar Slytherin’s personal getaway from the other three founders. Casting a _Lumos_ charm, Harry began to examine his find. Three ornately carved doors were opposite Harry across what might have been, at one point, a cozy little sitting room. A mouldy old black velveteen couch stood on a thick Persian rug in front of a rather large and intimidating brick fireplace. On what looked like a mahogany side table, was a stack of books. Various frames were on the walls, empty and covered in cobwebs, their subjects most likely having taken refuge in more social atmospheres. A cast iron wood stove stood in the opposite corner and what looked like a small kitchen nook was built around it. Slytherin apparently spared no luxury, as the counter tops, from what Harry could see, looked like black marble. Everything was covered in a very thick layer of dust, allowing the décor colours of black and green to just barely be seen.

Harry hesitated. He longed to explore the rooms beyond the far doors, but he knew Snape would be finishing up soon. With a sneaky grin, he crossed to the first door. It was _his_ detention, after all.

 

Snape left the chamber and went back to the slimy tube they had entered from. He still could not find his annoying accomplice. Surely the boy wasn’t so disrespectful that he would leave without telling him? Storming back into the main chamber, Snape continued to harvest ingredients off the skeleton, trying even harder to ignore the prickle of fear that was growing more and more insistent.

‘Potter?’ he called again, trying to sound gentle, but knew he had just sounded whiny. Grimacing at his tone, he snapped. ‘ _Potter!_ ’ Still no response beyond his own echo.

 

Harry had finished exploring Slytherin’s bedroom, only giving the mouldering and dusty room a quick run through, and a momentary scan of the attached bathroom before being forced to leave. The huge four poster bed, thick black shag carpet and ceiling high curtains on a very broad enchanted window all harboured enough dust to suffocate him. He closed the door behind him in relief. The middle door led to a room Harry could easily have mistaken for Snape’s classroom. It was a private lab. Suddenly, Harry felt guilty. With a buzz of excitement, Harry knew Snape would benefit from the exploration of Slytherin’s chambers much more than he. But now, the question was how to get out and retrieve the grumpy old Potions Master.

 

Snape was glaring at the wall behind the statue, certain this was where Harry had disappeared, when a large section of wall rotated in place and Harry appeared, holding a torch bracket down on the wall. He looked rather startled, and released the thing with a loud clunk, as it shifted back into place on the wall. Snape openly gaped at him.

‘You have to come, quickly,’ Harry said finally, reaching for Snape’s wrist. He grasped his speechless professor by his sleeve and reached up onto the statue, pressing an unyielding small switch above their heads. He then pulled Snape towards the wall.

‘Potter, what in Merlin’s-’ Snape began, but hushed as they were spun into an entirely new room.

‘I give you the private quarters of Salazar Slytherin,’ Harry said with a dramatic sweep of his arm and a grin. The crest of Slytherin house was above the fireplace and seeing as how it was located in the Chamber of Secrets, Snape found no reason to argue Harry’s claim.

‘You wish to show me a dusty old sitting room _because?_ ’ Snape asked, seemingly unimpressed. Underneath his blasé exterior though, Snape’s heart was pounding. This was a very fortuitous discovery.

‘Well, the bedroom needs a little cleaning, but _that’s_ a Potions lab,’ Harry said, pointing to the door across the room. He saw Snape’s eyes widen and knew he had made a smart choice in not keeping this to himself. In an obviously awestruck fashion, Snape crossed to the door and went inside.


	4. Payback

### 

**Payback**

As Snape reverently entered the Potions lab, Harry decided to explore the next room. The smallest of the rooms and the only one which was circular, it was approximately six feet across, and a rather rickety iron spiral staircase wound up the middle of the room. The walls were covered in shelving, which were jammed full of books. Thick books, thin books, tall books and small books. Books that were bound in worn leather and books that were bound in crumbling paper. The shelves extended up almost fifteen feet, the only physical access to them limited to what one could reach from the staircase. Many were on the subject of Potions. There were a few books on Transfiguration and Charms. Even fewer Herbology books were scattered among the shelves, mostly citing specific plants. There were several books on snakes and the accompanying language of Parseltongue. One book, on the care and rearing of Basilisks, was bound in a bright green snake skin leather. Large sections of the library were dedicated to the Dark Arts. In the very bottom shelf, across from the door, were six large notebooks, all labelled _‘The Works of Salazar Slytherin’_ , and were appropriately numbered one to six. Harry pulled the first one off the shelf and a thin stream of heavy dust poured out of the spine.

He opened the cover to view the Hogwarts crest. A good sign, Harry thought. Perhaps these dated back to when relations were still good between the Founders. Stepping back into the sitting room, Harry waited for Snape as he perused the book.

‘No surviving ingredients, everything has turned to dust,’ Snape announced. He was holding a large book much like Harry’s. Harry glanced at the spine and noted that it was the seventh notebook from _The Works of Salazar Slytherin_. ‘But I did find a very…interesting book.’

‘I’ve got the first one,’ Harry offered, lifting his own book and nodding to the library. ‘The other five are in there, bottom shelf opposite the door.’

‘An entire library?’ Snape breathed. ‘Perhaps I could find something a little more useful than this,’ he muttered, handing the seventh book to Harry before wandering toward the library. Harry frowned at the seventh volume. Surely Snape would want these! They were Slytherin’s personal notes!

Harry put the books down and followed his professor into the library. He was reaching for book after book, opening them and closing them with less than careful snaps, pushing them back into their cramped spaces on the shelves.

‘Useless, useless, useless,’ he was muttering as he went through the books.

‘But what about this book on counter-curses? Maybe there is something which would be useful against Volde-’

Snape whirled on him, snapping the book he was viewing shut in front of Harry’s face.

‘ _First_ of all, do _not_ utter the Dark Lord’s name in my presence,’ he growled. ‘Secondly, these books, despite my understanding of written English, French, Spanish and rudimentary German, are _all_ indecipherable!’

‘What are you talking about?’ Harry stammered as he stepped back from the incensed man. ‘They’re all written in Eng…lish…’ he trailed off, sudden comprehension dawning. 

‘ _Parseltongue_ ,’ Snape spat bitterly. ‘They’re all written in damned _Parseltongue_.’

‘Surely they could be translated?’

Snape stuffed the book he had been holding back into the shelves.

‘Only with a spell created specifically to translate Parseltongue into English. Which of course, would likely require the caster to know both languages.’

Harry shook his head.

‘I don’t know any spells like that.’

‘Exactly.’

Snape swept out of the library, obviously in a worse mood than he had been earlier due to his enormous disappointment. Harry sighed and summoned the rest of Slytherin’s personal notes, shrinking the entire set and tucking them in his robes. Perhaps, if translated, they would make adequate bartering pieces in future.

 

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry as he emptied his pockets of ingredients from the Basilisk. Harry impassively stood on the other side. Stifling a sigh, Snape knew he owed Harry some sort of thanks for showing him the Chamber, but he had no idea how to say it. Yes, he knew the words, but he knew Potter would see right through them if he merely said them. He had to _display_ his thanks, somehow. Growing frustrated with himself, Snape finally opened his mouth.

‘What do you want?’

Harry looked startled.

‘Pardon, sir?’

‘In return for showing me the Chamber. What do you want?’

Harry shook his head.

‘That was my detention, I can’t ask for-’

‘Then we can make you a new detention,’ Snape sneered, ‘and this can just be a meeting between allies.’

Harry noticed that he had particularly avoided the word ‘friends’, opting for the more neutral ‘allies’ instead. He felt a sad pang in his heart, but he didn’t know why. 

‘I don’t want anything,’ Harry told him, but his professor didn’t look impressed.

‘Surely this must have been your latest lucrative scheme, Potter. To add more galleons to your name, more stature to your place at Hogwarts…’

‘No!’ Harry protested.

‘Just tell me what you want,’ Snape growled. Harry suddenly had to fight the urge to laugh.

‘I don’t want anything,’ he insisted, barely hiding a grin at Snape’s words. This only irritated the Potions professor more. His immediate need to have the rare ingredients had superimposed on any thoughts he might have had about what sort of payment Potter would expect. Now that he realized his mistake and that he held some very rare and rather valuable ingredients in his possession, he was nervous. He did not want to be in debt to Harry Potter, so he sought to end the deal as quickly as possible, with as little mention as possible of the worth of the ingredients procured in the Chamber.

‘We must finalize this transaction in an official manner.’

Harry deliberated for a moment before smiling.

‘I’ll let you know within the week.’

 

‘You gave him ingredients off the Basilisk’s body?’ Hermione gaped. ‘That’s really…good of you, Harry. Remember, the last Basilisk seen was over four hundred years ago.’ Ron raised an eyebrow in her direction. ‘Well, I mean, besides the one in the Chamber,’ she added hurriedly. ‘But nobody knew what Slytherin’s monster even was until you killed it, Harry.’

Harry only nodded, but Ron’s eyes grew dreamy as he directed a pawn across the chess board that sat between them.

‘Imagine all the galleons that stuff would’ve fetched if you’d sold it yourself. Why’d you have to give away to that slimy git?’

‘He’s not slimy,’ Harry muttered, a faint heat rising in his cheeks. Ron either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore his statement as he ordered his knight down onto Harry’s pawn.

‘I haven’t told him what I want in return, yet,’ Harry continued, at which Ron brightened.

‘Tell him you want to be exempt from your Potions NEWT!’

‘Ron,’ Hermione admonished, ‘I don’t think Professor Snape meant _that_ kind of repayment. I think he was probably considering a material form of bartering; giving some _thing_ of apparent equal value.’

Ron rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else.

‘Oh, Harry, you could ask to see his private library!’ Hermione gushed. Ron coughed, spluttering in exasperation at his girlfriend. Harry snickered as he captured Ron’s rook.

‘Oi! Damn,’ Ron muttered, now paying more attention to their game.

‘Why don’t you ever play _me_ ,’ Hermione said suddenly. ‘I’m sure I’m not all that terrible.’

‘But you’re nowhere in Ron’s league,’ Harry grinned. Hermione frowned.

‘All you have to do is challenge me,’ Ron said comfortably, leaning back in his squashy armchair after moving his queen. ‘A good chess player _never_ turns down a challenge.’

‘You think Snape plays chess?’ Harry asked quietly. His two friends stared at him. Ron choked back a laugh and Hermione sighed.

‘Well, he does seem like the intellectual type who would enjoy it,’ she admitted. Harry suddenly knew what he wanted.

 

After some minor instruction from Ron and a visit to Hogsmeade, Harry was ready to challenge Snape. He had a brand new chess set, broken in by five games with Ron, tucked under his arm as he approached Snape after class. His potion was perfect - even Hermione was envious - so Snape had no reason whatsoever to be mean to him. Yet, as usual, he was.

‘Mr Potter,’ Snape said tersely as he approached his desk. ‘You have not yet gotten back to me.’

‘I figured it out, sir,’ Harry said, trying not to sound too jubilant. He procured his chess set, waving his wand so it opened up and set itself up on Snape’s desk. ‘I challenge you,’ he said, ‘to a _game_.’

If he had ever thought there would be a point where Snape would actually laugh at him, he thought now would be that moment. The lines he had rehearsed still sounded so ridiculous in his head. But much to his surprise, Snape looked at the game board and narrowed his eyes, leaning forward expectantly.

‘Your move, then, Mr Potter.’

Snape summoned a chair out of thin air for Harry to sit across from him. Harry sat slowly, the tension surrounding them suddenly growing akin to a wizard’s duel. Which it was, only a wizard’s _chess_ duel.

Harry moved a pawn. Snape moved a pawn. It was slow to start, but once Snape mobilized his knights, Harry knew he was finished and they had barely been playing for five minutes. It wasn’t long before Snape took his queen, and then two moves later, his king in a sound checkmate. Shoulders sagging, Harry admitted defeat. Snape was looking rather smug.

‘That’s what you want in exchange for almost two million galleons worth of potion ingredients? A game of chess?’

Harry felt a wave of weakness go through him as he heard the actual worth of the ingredients he had let his professor take.

‘No, I want to learn how to play chess. I want to beat Ron,’ he said, quickly creating an excuse other than irrationally wanting to spend time with his professor. Snape looked pensive. He could remember quite well how smoothly their last set of private lessons went. His teaching Harry Occlumency had ended rather disastrously. But this was not Occlumency, this was chess.

‘You realize that Mr Weasley beat Professor McGonagall’s animated chess set six years ago? A notoriously hard set to beat, and he’s had years to practice since,’ Snape mused. ‘It will not occur over night.’

‘I know,’ Harry said quietly.

‘Saturday nights,’ Snape said, pursing his lips. ‘Be here at seven or suffer the consequences.’

Harry wandered back to Gryffindor tower positively elated. The idea of spending Saturday nights with his Potions professor was somehow just absolutely _spiffing_.


	5. Lost in Translation

### 

**Lost in Translation**

‘You want to translate these?’ Hermione asked dubiously. Harry nodded.

‘They’re written in Parseltongue.’

‘ _Written_ in Parseltongue?’ Ron asked incredulously.

‘Is there an echo in here?’ Harry quipped dryly. His friend rolled his eyes. ‘Salazar Slytherin was a great Potions master, Snape would really appreciate these.’ Ron and Hermione exchanged looks.

‘Harry, that’s an extraordinary amount of work for…Professor Snape. I mean, he doesn’t exactly like you,’ Hermione reasoned.

‘Can barely tolerate you, more like,’ Ron added.

‘But I want to do this for him,’ Harry said quietly. Again, Ron and Hermione exchanged a meaningful look. Ron smirked and clapped Harry on the shoulder. Hermione sighed.

‘Then if this is what you want to do for your love, then we’ll help you.’

Harry turned bright red and shook Ron’s hand off.

‘He’s not my _love_ ,’ he ground out. Ron only grinned. ‘But even if he was, I’d be able to blame it all on you anyways.’

‘You coulda’ fooled me,’ Ron drawled. ‘The way you’ve been rushing off to the dungeons every Saturday night instead of hanging out with us.’

‘I’m learning to play chess!’

‘You don’t have to learn from _Snape!_ I hear McGonagall disguises herself to compete in Muggle chess competitions and she’s an _International Grandmaster_ ,’ Ron said with a note of awe.

‘Look,’ Harry snapped, ‘if there is something I can do to repair our relationship, especially after that… _disaster_ , I’ll do it.’ Ron flushed slightly and looked away.

‘We understand, Harry. We just think maybe you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.’

‘And why would you think that?’

Oddly enough, his friends were suddenly rendered silent.

 

‘I will promote my pawn to queen,’ Snape said silkily, his black pawn finally reaching Harry’s side of the board.

‘What are you talking about?’ Harry sputtered as the pawn temporarily turned into another queen piece with a squeal of delight. ‘You already have a queen!’

‘Perhaps Mr Weasley has never broached your defences enough to promote a pawn or maybe you are more distracted when playing with him,’ he said, frowning across at Harry, who felt the heat rise in his cheeks. ‘Either way, my move is entirely legal. You cannot expect a pawn, which cannot move backwards, to just sit at the other end of the board, useless.’

‘So, it’s kind of like checkers, then?’ Harry asked, having played the game at school sometimes. Snape nodded.

‘That is a rather elementary way to put it, but yes.’

It was his third Saturday chess game in the dreary dungeons. He was distracted by Snape’s smooth voice ordering his pieces, by the sniggering of the black pieces when Snape insulted him, and by the fact that he had the first book of Slytherin’s personal notes translated in his bag. His mouth was dry and swallowing was a taxing effort.

‘Water?’ Snape asked casually, summoning a pitcher of water and two tumblers.

‘Please,’ Harry nodded, reaching for a glass after Snape filled them.

‘Your turn,’ Snape said, waving his hand gracefully over the board. Harry had very few options. Again, he was doomed. The gleam in Snape’s eyes seemed to confirm that. Sighing, he reluctantly moved a knight forward.

‘Checkmate,’ Snape said rather smugly, moving his new queen. He had a dark smirk on his face and Harry threw up his hands.

‘I give up! I’m still just as terrible as I was when we started.’

‘Potter, are you so daft that you do not remember me telling you it will take _time?_ ’ Snape bit impatiently. ‘You will have to play many, many games before you acquire even a semblance of basic skill at chess.’

Harry groaned.

‘Isn’t there some sort of spell…’

‘No.’ Snape was looking more surly as the minutes passed, and now that the game was done, Harry wanted to prolong the time he spent with his professor.

Harry suddenly pulled out the first volume of Slytherin’s notes and slapped it on the desk triumphantly. He didn’t know why he chose that moment to bring it out, but it seemed like Snape was growing more irritable and a new Potions text would surely probably brighten him up a spot.

He heard the hiss of sharply indrawn breath from across the desk. Snape’s glittering black eyes were focused on the book, and Harry could see the tension in his professor’s shoulders. He knew Snape desperately wanted to put his hands on it, now that he could actually read the title. Finally, Snape wrenched his gaze from the book and met Harry’s eyes.

‘May I…?’

The manners were quite obviously forced, but Harry’s pulse quickened anyways.

‘Of course.’ He pushed the text towards the other man and was rewarded as he picked it up and reverently opened it. Then of course, his expression clouded over and his eyes snapped back to Harry.

‘You tricked me.’

Harry smirked. He had left the inside untranslated, but after he and Hermione had worked out a translation spell, it would be easy enough to turn the squiggling lines into decipherable English.

‘No, I just want to fix my price before you go gorging yourself on it.’

He could see Snape visibly tense, his back becoming straighter.

‘Price.’ He said it as a statement. Of course Potter would have a price, and no doubt a ridiculous one. Perhaps he would like to spend Monday evenings slamming him in one-on-one games of Quidditch or some other such nonsense. He knew, though, no matter what Potter’s price, he would pay it. This was too valuable an artifact not to pay.

Harry felt his face get warm and a hard knot formed in his stomach. Could he ask for it? Could he form the words?

‘I want…’

Harry’s blood was pounding in his ears. This was his chance! His breath was echoing in his head, as if he had a cold and couldn’t hear properly. His knees were bouncing. Snape glowered across at him.

‘What?’ he spat. ‘Would you like to learn how to play Gobstones, as well?’

‘I _want_ ,’ Harry said loudly, ignoring the comment, and pointing at Snape authoritatively, ‘for you to be civil to me.’

An awkward silence fell as they regarded each other. Snape looked slightly stricken, as if he would rather pay Harry off than be bribed into behaving nicely towards him. Harry was breathing heavily, as if he had just run around the castle grounds. His eyes were shining peculiarly and Snape felt slightly suspicious.

‘Why?’ he demanded.

‘Why?’ Harry repeated, taken aback. Snape sneered at Harry’s confused look, but was startled as it quickly turned to anger.

‘ _Why?!_ ’ Harry exploded, standing so suddenly that he shifted the desk and the chess game was upset. ‘Because you have always treated me like I was a worthless piece of garbage!’

‘You _are_ a worthless piece of garbage!’ Snape bellowed, standing as well. ‘You cannot come into this school and expect to be treated as a king among men because you accomplished unintentional magic at…’

‘I never expected that,’ Harry spat. ‘I didn’t even know I was a wizard until I got my damned letter! Then you go and immediately treat me as horribly as you can…’

‘You deserved every bit of it,’ Snape shot back. ‘You have only ever been an irritatingly brazen Gryffindor, trying so hard to be just like your dear old father-’

‘No!’ Harry shouted, escalating the argument by pulling out his wand and pointing it at his professor’s chest. Snape didn’t even bat an eye as he pulled his own wand and pointed it at Harry.

‘You’re just like your father, confident that the world must love you because you’re a _Potter_ , because you’re a _Gryffindor_. Everyone else is _scum_ , Slytherins are _scum_ , Snivellus is _**scum**_!’ Snape shouted, sparks lighting at the end of his wand. Harry took a step back, his glare turning icy.

‘Stop it! I’m not my father!’ Harry said in a low voice. ‘I never… _never_ would have…done that,’ he said quietly. Snape narrowed his eyes as he realized what Harry was talking about. Harry sighed, and his furious expression relaxed. ‘My father…did terrible things to you. I’m sorry for what he did.’ Harry sighed again, lowering his own wand completely. ‘I’m sorry for what _I_ did. I never should have looked in your Pensieve.’

The apology had been a long time in coming, and now that it was finally out, neither of them could actually believe it had been said. A heavy silence remained between them until Harry finally gave up, lifting both his hands in surrender, tucking his wand back into his robes.

‘Keep it,’ he said, glancing at the book, but refusing to look up at Snape. He waved his wand over it, and hissed the translation spell quietly. Summoning his chess set, he turned and went to the door to leave, only to find it already opening and a very cheery looking Albus Dumbledore standing in his path of exit.

‘Sir,’ Harry swallowed, suddenly nervous. Had Dumbledore heard their fight?

Dumbledore smiled at Harry.

‘Ah, chess! The game of intellectuals! Have you been playing against Severus?’

Harry nodded. Dumbledore beamed.

‘Things are good then! I see you’re leaving, so I will not impede your path any longer. Good night, Harry.’

Harry mumbled his goodbyes to the old headmaster and positively fled the dungeons.

‘Are you the cause of this?’ Snape asked Dumbledore coldly. Dumbledore’s smile faded.

‘Whatever do you mean?’

‘Potter,’ he spat, ‘wanting to play chess. Potter giving me books,’ he said, lifting the Potions text, which Dumbledore suddenly became immensely interested it. ‘ _Potter_ ,’ he continued, ‘wanting me to be _nice_.’

‘Perhaps the boy is merely tired of the antagonistic relationship the two of you have fostered so well these past years. I shouldn’t see why you’d be opposed to a change, Severus,’ Dumbledore mused, opening Slytherin’s book. Snape ignored his actions, and started pacing.

‘He’s just trying to win me over,’ he growled. ‘Trying to make me a Potter _fan_. I won’t fall for that.’

‘He isn’t his father, and you know that. Life is not a popularity contest for him as it may have been for James.’

‘Of course it is,’ Snape hissed. ‘Why wouldn’t it be? He has even more right to boast and brag and strut all over than his father did. He has his father’s _looks_ , his father’s _money_ , his father’s _Quidditch skill_ , and then he has his _own_ fame…’

‘You mistake him for something he isn’t,’ Dumbledore said seriously, looking at Snape over his half-moon spectacles and putting the book back down on the desk. ‘You’ve spent so much time seeing the Harry that you’ve built from your preconceived notions of him based on his father, that you’ve never even seen him for who he truly is. It seems Harry wishes to start over. Perhaps you should grant him that wish.’ With that, Dumbledore left Snape alone in his dungeon, seemingly having shown up just to tell him this.

 

Harry shuffled down to Potions, feeling absolutely dejected. Not only did Snape probably hate him even more now, but his first bartering piece had been a total waste. He had planned the first to get them on good terms, then offering the second in exchange for a meeting of some kind.

_A date_ , a lusty voice in his head intoned.

No. A meeting. A meeting between allies. 

But now even that was lost. Hermione had been unable to convince him that it probably hadn’t been as bad as he thought, but Ron thought it was ridiculous that he was taking the argument so hard.

‘You’ve never cared before,’ he said, confused.

Harry couldn’t explain it. He had ended up blaming it on the potion and Ron had shaken his head sadly.

Stepping into the classroom late, Harry expected the worst; a scathing remark, a twenty point deduction. Maybe he would vanish his potion again, just for good measure.

‘Late, Mr Potter. Five points from Gryffindor. Sit down.’

Harry gaped at the Potions master, who was already walking among the desks observing students’ work. Snape looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

‘Would you like to lose another five points? Take your seat.’

Harry hurried to his place beside Hermione and Ron, dropping his bag and making his way to the stewing racks where his potion still stood, bubbling. Malfoy looked just as shocked as he did at the lack of poisonous remarks from the Potions professor, but his expression was more disappointed than Harry’s.

Harry was elated. His potion was perfect and Snape had even nodded at his progress as he passed. His request had worked. Things were going to be okay! He watched the dark figure circle the class, his silent, malevolent presence making Harry’s knees weak when he approached.

He knew it was too good to last, though. His thoughts, distracted by Snape’s constantly re-approaching form, and his hands, clammy from nervous sweat, combined to drop a vial of Doxy venom right at Snape’s feet. The tinkle of breaking glass silenced the class so that Malfoy’s short, ecstatic guffaw could easily be heard.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned into a white line.

‘Ten points from Gryffindor for being a...clumsy… _boy_.’ Snape finished awkwardly, obviously having wanted to insult Harry, but remembering their deal. Harry couldn’t help but grin.

‘Sorry, professor. Won’t happen again.’ He waved his wand and repaired the vial and vanished the spilled venom.

‘See that it doesn’t, Mr Potter.’


	6. Only a Rumour

### 

**Only a Rumour**

Harry was on a natural high for the next week, much to Ron’s disgust. Everyone seemed to notice Snape’s new behaviour towards Harry and several theories abounded. The most extreme was of course that Snape was dying, so he was repenting and making amends. But that didn’t seem to account for his regular snarky attitude towards anyone else. There was the theory that Snape fancied Harry, at which Harry always blushed furiously when he heard. Some thought that Dumbledore had ordered the niceness. Hermione and Ron knew the truth, and that’s all Harry needed, or wanted, for that matter. If word got out that he’d bartered for civility with an ancient Potions text, Harry thought Malfoy might have a fit. But he couldn’t help but put in extra effort, especially when he was rewarded with a courteous nod.

His chess lesson with the greasy Potions master had come and Harry was anxious to see how their deal would affect their interaction on a one-on-one basis. He made his way down to the dungeons, another translated text in his bag next to his chess set. He didn’t know what he wanted for it yet, but he was sure he’d figure it out.

Snape was waiting for him at his desk, the first volume of Slytherin’s notes open before him.

‘Not finished yet?’ Harry asked as he entered. Snape looked up, his eyes finding Harry in a bored manner.

‘There is reading, Mr Potter, and then there is learning. I have read it, now I wish to learn from it.’

Harry nodded as Snape conjured up a chair for him. Setting up the chess board, Harry scanned the page Snape was reading.

‘That’s where I learned to translate them!’ Harry exclaimed. Snape looked at him, a look of mild surprise on his face.

‘Yes, he does mention a spell, but it is useless except to a Parseltongue. In essence, it is an excellent safeguard of one’s work. There aren’t many Parseltongues walking around these days.’ He lifted an eyebrow briefly at Harry. ‘You _are_ white, so it is your move first.’

‘Right,’ Harry muttered distractedly, moving a pawn forward. Snape boldly mobilized his knights. Their game progressed in silence, and Harry was able to capture many of Snape’s pieces. He was starting to feel like he had a chance of winning when he caught one of Snape’s pawns moving in towards his end of the board, towards his last pawn.

‘Nay, move me not, lad!’ his last pawn protested.

‘Oh shut up,’ Harry growled. His white pieces never gave him good advice, though his black set was growing rather partial to Snape. He ordered the pawn up next to Snape’s to prevent its capture. With a smirk, Snape ordered his pawn to attack.

‘What?’ Harry gasped as the black pawn moved diagonally and his white pawn, who Harry thought would be safe, grumbled as it left the board.

‘ _En passant_ , Mr Potter. Look it up.’

‘I didn’t arrange these lessons so I would have to look things up,’ Harry sighed. Snape rolled his eyes.

‘If you move a pawn up beside one of my own, I can capture it _en passant_. It’s a special move.’

‘The pawns get all the special moves,’ Harry said bitterly. Snape shook his head.

‘No, not all. The king gets one, too.’

‘Great. Now I get to wait until you whip that one out,’ Harry groaned. He could have sworn he saw the corners of Snape’s mouth twitch. He reached into his bag and brought out the second volume.

‘We haven’t finished our game yet, Potter,’ Snape said quietly, his eyes narrowing. ‘I refuse to allow you to _buy_ a victory.’

Harry snorted.

‘I didn’t expect to win this game, even with this,’ he said, patting the cover of the book. Snape leaned back, gently touching the pads of his fingers together in a triangle in front of his chest.

‘Then what do you want?’

‘Another deal.’

‘You are using these books as bargaining chips,’ Snape observed, glaring at Harry. ‘What for?’

Harry shrugged.

‘To get things done that wouldn’t otherwise be done?’

‘I see. What do you want for this?’

The chess game was forgotten. Harry leaned in, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

‘Dinner.’

‘You want food?’ Snape sneered, unconsciously leaning farther back, away from Potter.

‘I want to have dinner. With you,’ Harry stated. Colour was rising in his cheeks.

‘To what point and purpose?’ Snape asked, his voice rising in volume, his alarm showing. Harry was beginning to regret asking.

‘Just to talk.’

‘We talk when we play chess,’ Snape hissed, leaning forward towards Harry menacingly. ‘There is nothing I wish to discuss with you over _dinner_.’

Harry frowned.

‘Be nice.’

‘Being nice has nothing to do with going out of my way to converse with you!’

‘We play chess,’ Harry pointed out.

‘Because you coerced me into doing so!’ Snape exclaimed, standing.

‘You demanded to make some sort of payment,’ Harry countered. ‘If you didn’t want to…’

‘Playing chess on a weekly basis is preferable to paying half a million galleons,’ Snape spat as he started to pace. He started to massage the bridge of his nose with his index fingers.

‘What is it that you want, Potter?’ he sighed.

‘Dinner,’ Harry stated again.

Snape whirled.

‘What _for_?!’

‘To talk.’

‘ _Bullshit_.’

Harry gaped at his professor. He was rather red in the face and was scowling more angrily than he had seen all week. Snape seemed completely unapologetic about swearing, too. He wagged an accusing finger at Harry.

‘You have other motives, Potter, and I will find them out.’ Snape gestured to the door. ‘Leave.’

‘But, we haven’t finished our game,’ Harry blurted.

Snape turned away as he shouted ‘ _out_!’

Harry didn’t need telling twice. He gathered his chess board and Slytherin’s book and left the dungeon in a hurry, not noticing the headmaster waiting outside the door.

‘Don’t tell me things are not well between you two?’ Dumbledore asked as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. Snape stopped pacing and looked up in shock at Dumbledore’s entrance before his words registered.

‘That surprises you?’

‘Come, dear boy, the rumours have been flying thick…’

‘I see.’

Snape heaved a dramatic sigh and sat down again. Dumbledore took Harry’s empty chair.

‘What seems to be the problem?’

‘That,’ Snape said, pointing out the door, ‘is not Harry Potter.’

‘Correct, that would be the door.’

‘You know what I mean,’ Snape snapped. ‘He wants to make _friendly_ , wants to play _chess_ and eat _food_ …’ he ranted at the headmaster. ‘It isn’t normal behaviour!’

Dumbledore chuckled.

‘Of course being civil with Harry Potter would seem slightly abnormal for you.’

‘No, you don’t understand. He seems driven by something other than just regular niceties.’

Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

‘There are also rumours that a batch of Amortentia was recently brewed in the second floor toilets…’

Snape was suddenly overcome with a feeling of icy dread. Potter’s sudden attentions. His willingness to share the Chamber of Secrets with him at the cost of playing chess once a week. He was translating the works of Slytherin for him in exchange for paltry meetings and improvements to their relationship. Potter was going out of his way to win Snape’s appreciation and earn himself a spot in Snape’s schedule. And there was that time…that time the boy fainted after looking at him after he’d been bumbling around with his eyes shut.

‘Oh Merlin,’ Snape breathed.

‘It’s only a rumour, of course,’ Dumbledore smiled.

‘Of course,’ Snape answered weakly. ‘Only a rumour.’


	7. The Placebo Effect

### 

**The Placebo Effect**

_We will have dinner in my personal chambers at seven o’clock this evening._

The note was scrawled in Severus Snape’s spiky letters, and Harry felt his stomach twist with nerves as he reread it over and over again over breakfast Sunday morning. A Sunday dinner couldn’t go as intimately late as a weekend dinner, perhaps, but it was a start. He wondered vaguely what had caused the surly man to change his mind. Hermione leaned towards him to glance at the note over his shoulder.

‘Who’re you having dinner with, Harry?’ she asked with a smile. Harry blushed.

‘Snape.’

Ron choked on his juice across from them.

‘You… _what_?!’

‘I’m having dinner with him,’ Harry mumbled, growing rather red. Ron gesticulated wildly, seemingly too upset to speak.

‘Harry,’ Hermione said quickly, ‘you can’t seriously be thinking of pursuing…a _relationship_ with him? He’s a professor for one.’

‘And a greasy git for another!’ Ron finally spluttered.

‘And he couldn’t possibly be interested in men.’

‘ _Or_ women!’ Ron added.

‘And how on earth did you get him to agree to this?’ Hermione said softly, reading the note. ‘I noticed he seemed to be treating you more decent, but to have dinner?’

‘Harry, we have to be honest,’ Ron sighed. ‘I know you won’t take this well.’

‘Don’t think I don’t know what you think of him,’ Harry told them seriously. ‘And I’m quite aware of the risks of going after, not only a professor, but Snape himself.’

‘But we have to tell you-’

‘I don’t want to hear it, Ron. I’m…I like him,’ Harry stammered. ‘He’s different, he doesn’t try to mollycoddle me, he’s honest.’

Ron snorted.

‘If by honest, you mean a snarky bastard.’

Harry sighed.

‘I guess this is because of the potion, but I can’t help it. Just do me a favour and…don’t make fun of me too bad when it’s over.’

Ron smirked.

‘Oh, don’t worry, we will.’

 

Harry excused himself from his friends’ presence and spent the day browsing Slytherin’s works to see what he had to say about Veritaserum for the essay that Snape had assigned the previous Friday. He figured it might impress the Potions master if he dropped a few advanced tidbits. When six o’clock rolled around, Harry felt queasy. He reasoned that he had no reason to be nervous, but Snape had seemed so opposed to the idea of having dinner, that his sudden decision to go through with it was slightly unnerving. He vaguely wondered if he should pack a bezoar with him.

Not wanting to run into Malfoy and his cronies, Harry fetched his Invisibility Cloak from his trunk and made his way discreetly to the dungeons. He arrived precisely on time and, pulling off the cloak, faced the large portrait of Salazar Slytherin timidly.

‘You are his dinner guest?’ the portrait said in a booming voice. Harry flinched and noticed the snake coiled around Slytherin’s neck. Standing up a little straighter, Harry replied in a stream of hissing.

‘Yesss, would you kindly let him know I’ve arrived?’

Slytherin stared at him, his eyes growing wide. He nodded once and stepped out of the frame, not taking his eyes off of Harry for a moment. Suddenly the portrait swung open and Snape glowered down at him.

‘Enter.’

Harry stepped inside as Snape held the portrait open for him, walking into a small kitchenette, complete with muted black cupboards and shining black granite counter tops. Harry smiled as he remembered Salazar Slytherin’s kitchenette. A length of counter separated the kitchen from a dining area, beyond which was a small sitting area, dwarfed by a large, brick fireplace. Three doors were along the curved wall opposite the kitchenette, and they were all closed.

Snape followed him towards the table, gesturing graciously to a chair. With a wave of his wand, candles were lit and place settings appeared.

‘I shall…get the first course,’ he stated awkwardly, returning to the kitchenette, where various bowls and plates stood empty on the counter. ‘One can only hope you are cultured enough to appreciate gazpacho.’

While Harry examined the silverware, Snape summoned the cold tomato soup into the bowls from the kitchens. He withdrew a vial from his robes and, turning away from Harry to hide his actions, poured the pale pink potion into one of the bowls and mixed it in. He had spent all day brewing the love potion antidote and inviting him to dinner was the least difficult way to administer it to Harry without arousing the suspicions of those around. In private, with Harry willingly consuming food and drink, it wouldn’t be long before Harry would return to his senses. Snape grimaced. He had a calming draught on hand for that moment, as well.

‘Soup to start,’ he declared, placing the bowls on the table with a flourish. Harry smirked and picked up his spoon. Snape watched him like a hawk, making absolutely sure that the boy was eating the soup. Harry wrinkled his nose briefly at the temperature of it, but seemed intrigued by the taste.

‘So…’ Harry started, looking across the table at his agitated professor. Snape jerkily grabbed his spoon and took a large swallow of his soup. There was a shadow of an unfamiliar flavour and Snape could barely contain his frustration as he realized he had given _himself_ the soup with the antidote in it. 

‘What do you wish to discuss?’ Snape said tersely.

‘Well, you could tell me about yourself?’ Harry suggested meekly. Snape conjured up a basket of bread and took a roll for himself, stuffing a large quantity of it into his mouth and glaring at Harry while he chewed.

‘If you think-’

‘I just want to know your side of the story,’ Harry interrupted. ‘From the Pensieve.’

Snape visibly tensed.

‘Quid pro quo.’

‘Which means?’

‘I tell you something, you tell me something,’ Snape said. Dumbledore had said that he had Harry pegged completely wrong. He would be the judge of that, however.

Harry shrugged.

‘That’s fine. Tell me about Hogwarts.’

Snape tried not to wince. He distracted himself by taking their bowls away, Harry’s empty, his own still full.

‘Well, I came to school knowing someone, which I hear might have been an advantage I had over yourself.’

‘Yeah, I met Ron and Hermione on the train. I met Malfoy even before that, in the robe shop in Diagon Alley.’

Snape nodded.

‘I knew your mother.’

‘My mum?’ Harry breathed. ‘Right, you were friends with her…’

‘She was my best friend,’ Snape admitted softly, conjuring the main course to their plates. Carrying them to the table, Snape grabbed the empty goblet in front of Harry and held it up questioningly.

‘Drink?’

‘Oh, yes please.’

‘What would you like to drink?’ Snape pressed. Harry pondered.

‘Butterbeer?’

‘Of course,’ Snape huffed, irritated. He went back to the counter top in the kitchen and placed their goblets upon the surface. He was secretly glad Harry had chosen Butterbeer, the flavour would mask the antidote better than pumpkin juice. He made sure to have wine himself, so that he would not mistakenly give himself the antidote again.

‘Where did things go wrong?’ Harry asked quietly as he brought the drinks back to the table. He took a long drink of Butterbeer, and frowned at the goblet. Snape tensed, forgetting the question.

‘Tastes kinda’ funny.’

‘Must be the metal from the goblet,’ Snape said in a voice that he hoped desperately was casual. Harry shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, what was your question?’

‘Where did things go wrong?’ Harry repeated. ‘I was never given the impression you were on good terms with my parents at…the end, so I’m guessing somewhere along between you being friends with my mum and not being friends with her, something happened.’

Snape coughed.

‘Yes, well, you saw that in my Pensieve.’

‘So, you randomly called her a Mudblood and that was it?’ Harry said flatly. ‘Likely story.’

Poking uninterestedly at his mashed potatoes, Snape mulled over the question.

‘Lily liked James,’ he said slowly. ‘And Black and your father always teased me, mercilessly. Snivellus, remember? So when she went after them, it created a rift between us. That drove me further towards the Dark Arts, which drove her further from me. The ultimate expression of that falling out, you have already witnessed.’

Harry was silent, also poking at his mashed potatoes. Snape sighed.

‘Tell me about your family, then.’

‘The Dursleys?’ Harry asked, momentarily stunned. 

‘No, your _other_ family.’

Harry scowled.

‘Well, my Uncle Vernon and cousin, Dudley, are built along the same lines as whales, while Aunt Petunia is pretty bony.’

Snape nodded.

‘Your mother was rather slender.’

Harry nodded, staring rather intently at the mountain he was slowly creating out of his potatoes.

‘They used to keep me in a cupboard under the stairs, until I got my Hogwarts letter. It was addressed to ‘the cupboard under the stairs’, so that freaked them out and they moved me into my cousin’s second bedroom.’

‘Second bedroom?’ Snape raised an eyebrow, swirling the last of his wine around in his goblet before drinking it down and summoning more.

‘Yeah, he has so much stuff that it takes up two bedrooms. Mostly just the broken stuff is in the second one.’

Snape had to fight to keep his expression of utter revulsion at Harry’s relatives down. Perhaps Harry actually liked them.

‘Anyways, so after I got my letter, they locked me up for my first summer back. Put bars on the windows, locked the door, and gave me food through a cat flap my uncle installed in the door.’

Snape couldn’t help the way his lip was curling. Damn, perhaps he should go slower on the wine.

‘But Ron busted me out that summer. After that it wasn’t that bad, but I always had to do all the chores and sometimes it wasn’t all that certain that I’d get fed.’ Harry didn’t seem particularly distressed by these facts, but his expression darkened as he continued. ‘But I was never ‘Harry’ to my aunt and uncle. I was always ‘boy’ or ‘freak’.’

Snape vanished the mashed potatoes off their plates and replaced it with steaming turkey breast, cranberry sauce and dressing.

‘Better?’

Harry grinned, draining the rest of his goblet of Butterbeer.

Snape sat quietly as Harry devoured the rest of his dinner and told Snape the story of when he first realized he could talk to snakes. He felt himself almost smile, but was still waiting for the antidote to kick in. Surely he should have been cured by now?

‘Are you feeling alright?’ Snape asked suddenly. Harry looked at him strangely.

‘I should ask you that. You look pretty spaced out, sir.’

‘I think that’s enough dinner for now.’

Harry was still working on his vegetables, but he made no argument and put down his fork.

‘Sounds fair.’

He stood and went to the door.

‘I’ll see you in class tomorrow, then.’

‘Potter,’ Snape called. ‘I gave you an antidote.’ Harry was quiet at the door.

‘You…know, then?’

‘Yes.’

Snape didn’t say anything more and Harry left awkwardly. As soon as the boy had left, Snape scrunched his fingers into his hair, growling. Either he had made a mistake on the antidote, or Harry was not under the influence of Amortentia and was acting on his own desires, because his behaviour had not changed. Both options were equally disturbing to the Potions master.

 

Harry got back to Gryffindor tower at a quarter to eight. Their dinner had not gone as smoothly as he had hoped nor as long as he had wanted, but it could have gone worse. At least they hadn’t argued, and had progressed past schoolwork as far as conversation topics. But he had given him an antidote to Amortentia. So why was his head still filled with visions of Snape putting their soup on the table with an elegant flourish, and his smirk at Harry’s Parseltongue story. Ron and Hermione were sitting on a couch in the common room, talking quietly when Harry walked in.

‘Well? How was Hell’s kitchen?’ Ron smirked.

‘ _Snape’s_ kitchen could use a little colour,’ he admitted with a grin, which quickly faded. ‘He gave me an antidote.’

Ron looked up.

‘Well that was a bit unnecessary,’ Ron scoffed comfortably as Hermione leaned into him.

‘What do you mean, _unnecessary_? Did you put some sort of permanent charm on it?! Because I can’t get him out of my head and there’s no way he would’ve messed up an antidote.’

‘Mate,’ Ron chuckled, ‘don’t you remember the Felix Felicis? I never even made Amortentia, so I didn’t even have any to give you in the first place. I wanted to see if I could do the same thing that you did to me. I just charmed a vial of water to go all shimmery.’

‘You…never gave it to me?’ Harry said slowly, this realization shocking his system to its core. Hermione looked away guiltily.

‘And _you_ knew? You both knew! You tricked me!’ Harry bellowed. Hermione got up off of Ron and the couch, her lower lip trembling.

‘He made me promise!’ she cried, pointing accusingly at Ron.

‘Besides, we tried to tell you, mate,’ Ron insisted, standing up. Harry had started hyperventilating. 'Several times, really.'

‘You mean I…I actually…’

‘Easy, Harry,’ Ron cautioned. Harry swayed dangerously.

‘I…you made me…I actually…oh Merlin, I’m actually…in love with _Snape_ ,’ Harry said weakly. He sighed as he slumped to the floor in a dead faint.


	8. Alone

### 

**Alone**

Harry woke to find himself in the hospital wing. Ron and Hermione were standing next to his bed, talking quietly. He watched them calmly for a moment before he remembered what Ron had told him before he passed out. Suddenly, he was no longer calm.

‘Harry,’ Hermione said with a sigh, seeing he was finally awake. Ron spun to look at him.

‘Out,’ he whispered in a deadly voice. ‘Get out.’

‘We wanted to make sure you were okay, mate,’ Ron said uneasily.

‘Get out! Get _away_ from me!’ Harry shouted at them, sitting up and waving his arms wildly. Hermione looked quite distressed, but Ron just looked disappointed as he backed away.

‘It was just an April Fool’s joke, Harry. And we _did_ try to tell you.’

‘ _Get out_!’ Harry bellowed, throwing back the covers of his hospital bed and standing up. He felt slightly light-headed but stormed towards his friends anyways. ‘I don’t want to see you! Get out, _get out, **get out**_!’ He was growing rather red in the face from shouting, and Hermione was cowering behind Ron, sniffling.

‘What in Merlin’s name is going on in here?’ Madam Pomfrey exclaimed as she swept into the wing. ‘Mr Potter, back in bed until I have examined you,’ she admonished. ‘And you two are quite clearly not helping in his recovery,’ she told Ron and Hermione, ushering them out. When they were gone, she turned back to Harry.

‘I have no idea what’s happened, but you are obviously in need of rest for one, thing,’ Madam Pomfrey said gently, taking Harry’s arm and leading him back to bed, tucking in the covers around him. She felt his forehead and gave him a critical look.

‘You don’t seem feverish. What exactly happened? Mr Weasley said you passed out.’

‘He pulled a prank on me,’ Harry said weakly. ‘And Snape fed me an antidote for a potion I never took,’ he added as an afterthought. Perhaps that was the cause of his light-headedness.

‘ _Professor_ Snape, Mr Potter,’ Madam Pomfrey corrected, frowning. She exited the hospital wing then and Harry sighed, wishing he would fall asleep so he wouldn’t have to think about the recent turn of events.

 

Snape was still pondering the enigma that was Harry Potter long after his student left. If he had made a mistake on the antidote, he could have made Harry very ill, which for some reason plagued Snape’s conscience, when normally - he admitted to himself - it wouldn’t. But the possibility that the boy had not been under the influence of a love potion seemed even less likely than making a mistake on a rather straight-forward potion. With a powerful and complex love potion such as Amortentia, the effects were the most realistic one could magically produce. Cheaper and lower grade love potions would produce superficial obsession and infatuation, but Amortentia could produce a very realistic love. The symptoms Harry had all pointed to the beginning of what would be called the ‘crush’ phase, where the victim becomes enamoured with the subject and wishes to spend more time with him. From there it would progress to an affectionate love and from there deepen into a selfless devotion. Not quite unlike real love but still fake, and unless the potion was administered at least on a bimonthly basis with regards to the same subject, the effects would eventually wear off. But why the antidote hadn’t worked, that was the real puzzle.

‘Severus?’ a voice called. He turned towards the fireplace, where Poppy Pomfrey’s head lay in his fire.

‘Yes, I’m here,’ he answered, going into the sitting area and taking a seat on his black velveteen couch.

‘It’s Harry Potter, sir. He’s fallen ill and claims you fed him an antidote.’

Snape sighed and nodded. So he _had_ made a mistake.

‘I’ll be right there.’

 

Harry groaned when Madam Pomfrey returned, because she was followed by a rather sour-looking Snape. He nodded to her and she left them alone. 

‘The antidote has made you ill?’ Snape asked, approaching his bed. Harry shrugged.

‘I feel light-headed.’

‘Poppy told me you fainted.’

‘That was more because of what Ron told me,’ he muttered. Snape’s expression darkened further.

‘And what, pray tell, did Mr Weasley feel the need to tell you?’

‘He admitted he tricked me.’

Snape felt his frustration at Harry’s evasion - and his dread - mount.

‘Tricked you _how_ , Potter?’

Harry met Snape’s cold black eyes with his own glittering green ones. The hurt in those eyes was clear, even to someone as emotionally detached as Snape felt he was.

‘He made me believe I was dosed with Amortentia.’

Snape tensed. So he had not made a mistake, but wrongly administered an antidote. The disturbing realization was that Potter had been acting on his own this entire time. Something which Snape had scoffed at, for there could be no way Potter would ever actively seek out his company. Harry blinked and turned his head away from the towering professor.

‘The light-headedness will likely last until tomorrow morning,’ Snape diagnosed brusquely. ‘It will linger longer if you do not get adequate sleep this evening.’

‘Right,’ Harry said bitterly. ‘I’ll try to remember that.’

Snape felt extremely awkward and left without speaking any further.

 

Harry didn’t come to class early for any of the days the following week. He sat as far away from Ron and Hermione as physically possible, even bearing the brunt of Malfoy’s mocking just so he could sit on the opposite side of the classroom. He didn’t offer answers to questions, and he had made several almost disastrous mistakes on his Veritaserum, in its last week of brewing. Snape had corrected them, feeling sympathy for the tortured soul, but an equalling resentment because of it. It was still hard to think of Potter in terms of the recent admissions he had made over dinner, instead of the spoiled brat he had thought him before. The trick should have given him perverse pleasure, knowing Harry had been wronged, but he was sympathetic. After all, he had been tricked as well. He had been tricked into thinking his relationship with Harry could possibly become something more than poisonous. Now he knew it would never be anything but.

Saturday night arrived and Severus heaved a sigh as he pulled a stack of abysmal third year papers towards himself. He had actually started looking forward to the weekly chess night, even if it turned into an argument before the game even finished, or Harry spent the entire time _whinging_ about how the pawns were Dark agents with too many special powers. The boy had actually been paying attention and had started to employ some of the moves he showed him and becoming more bold and ruthless in his strategies. He was slowly becoming a qualified adversary. But of course Potter wouldn’t show up; it wasn’t like a tradition, or a pact between _friends_. They had only been playing for four weeks. This would have been their fifth chess night, Snape thought ruefully, glancing at the clock on his desk. He had magically spelled in ‘chess’ in between ‘time for tea’ and ‘paper marking’, and the large hand that read ‘Severus’ now pointed to it. Growling, he waved his wand at the clock and ‘chess’ disappeared. The hand moved to ‘paper marking’.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ The door to the classroom burst open and Harry bustled inside, muttering further apologies and spelling open his chess set onto the desk. He waited as Snape looked at him in shock, before drawing up a chair for him.

‘I…didn’t think you were coming,’ Snape admitted softly after Harry got himself comfortable. Harry froze and glanced at the older man.

‘I didn’t think so, either,’ he said quietly, relaxing. ‘I was studying in the common room when I heard voices from my dorm…it was my chess set.’ He frowned, the black pieces cheering regally for Severus at this announcement. ‘They wanted to play with you.’

Snape tried to hold back a smirk.

‘So you came for the sake of your inanimate game pieces. How thoughtful.’

Harry shrugged.

‘Whatever keeps them happy.’

‘Well then, Mr Potter,’ Snape said slowly, pushing the third year essays aside. ‘I shall introduce you to castling.’

 

It was the start of the second full week in May when professors started piling on even more homework. Multiple essays were due in each class, many professors were springing surprise exams, and in all of Harry’s classes, there were stringently graded practicums to do. It was little wonder they called the exams ‘nastily exhausting’. While the professors were used to giving the extra load for their seventh years, the seventh years themselves usually found the adjustment more difficult.

Harry could tell Hermione and Ron were feeling the stress, but Ron more so than Hermione. She had a firm handle on her study schedule and was highly motivated, but Harry knew Ron would be trying to procrastinate. Harry was finding himself doing the same thing.

Without Hermione to lead him, Harry had tentatively drafted up a revised study schedule and even went so far as to paste it in his texts like Hermione. The NEWT classes were longer than regular classes as it was, but then adding on several hours of homework each night and several more of studying was going to take its toll. He was fairly certain his Quidditch would suffer, but Gryffindor was so far in the lead it probably wouldn’t affect them much.

Harry was putting away a crash mat from Defence Against the Dark Arts, where Dumbledore had run the class through a variety of binding and stunning spells, when the ancient headmaster approached him. He had lacked his usual vivacious energy during the lesson and looked very tired when he spoke to Harry.

‘I would very much like you to start extra-curricular studies, Harry,’ Dumbledore told him. ‘Death Eater activity has increased and I’m afraid…things may be coming to a head very soon.’

‘Of course, sir,’ Harry said seriously.

‘You need to be prepared,’ Dumbledore affirmed, ‘and I’m afraid the regular Hogwarts curriculum may be rather insufficient. Have you been experiencing any…nightmares, Harry?’

Harry nodded.

‘A few. I usually just…keep them to myself these days,’ he mumbled.

‘Ah,’ Dumbledore said delicately. Sirius’ death still weighed heavily on the boy, then.

‘When would these…lessons start?’ Harry asked, cutting into Dumbledore’s wandering thoughts.

‘You will have to discuss that with your mentor,’ Dumbledore smiled. ‘Professor Snape will be tutoring you in various areas. A resumption of Occlumency may also be of use.’

Harry nodded, his mouth going quite dry.

‘Thank you, sir.’

Gathering his things and leaving for Charms, Harry considered the two months until graduation. With the NEWTs coming up, extra assignments and studying, Quidditch, and now extra lessons, he felt overwhelmed. But what could be helped? He was the Boy Who Lived, and not only did he have to manage his regular life, but also his prophesied one, too.


	9. Dumbledore Always Knows

### 

**Dumbledore Always Knows**

Snape was feeling guilty, and he didn’t like it. He had planned out the curriculum from the beginning; it was certainly not his fault that Potter had been the hapless victim of a juvenile prank. So why did those brilliant green eyes, filled with such pain, make him feel so terrible? The instructions for Amortentia were on the board, but Potter was just sitting there, staring at him with a mixture of hurt and contempt written quite plainly on his face. Turning and stifling a groan to himself, Snape began to oversee the brews that were started by his Gryffindor NEWT students. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Harry had turned away and finally begun his potion.

Harry couldn’t believe it. It was like Snape was throwing it right in his face. Sure they weren’t on _great_ terms, but he had thought that their relationship had gotten past direct insults. He admitted to himself that his growing feelings for his professor probably added to the feeling of betrayal, but he tried not to think about it. He was also feeling humiliated as he remembered the prank Ron had pulled with Hermione’s help.

‘Hey Potty, you sure you’re doing that right?’

Unfortunately seated next to Malfoy, Harry turned to find the slender blonde staring down at his rose petals, carefully chopped into fine little squares. Malfoy’s were sliced into thin strips.

‘We’ll see,’ Harry said cagily, ‘when you add _that_ to your viper eggs.’ Smirking to himself, he began stirring the contents of his cauldron. He saw, with a note of satisfaction, that Malfoy didn’t seem so confident anymore.

Harry had done some background reading at Snape’s prompting during their last chess match, and had discovered that chopping the rose petals instead of slicing like the textbook instructions said, would produce a more potent potion.

‘Potter,’ Snape’s voice snapped across the dungeon at him, ‘what in Merlin’s name are you doing?’

The surly professor marched over, his robes snapping as he passed Malfoy’s cauldron.

‘Making my potion, sir,’ Harry replied, trying desperately to be as impertinent as possible, while still not being rude enough to warrant a points deduction.

‘That’s an improvement on earlier,’ Snape drawled. ‘Why are you not following the instructions written on the board?’ he asked, louder, so the class would hear. All eyes focused on him.

‘Well, sir,’ Harry said carefully, ‘isn’t it true that chopping the rose petals increases the amount of essence that can be drawn out?’

‘For what point and purpose, Potter?’ Snape asked guardedly. Harry smiled innocently up at the brooding professor.

‘To produce a stronger potion, sir.’

Snape seemed slightly taken aback, but nodded in approval.

‘Proceed.’

 

The week was wrapping up and Ron and Hermione had even gone so far as to owl Harry notes of apology, but he had ignored every attempt. He wanted a face to face apology, which he knew would be harder for them, as he was avoiding them by staying in the Room of Requirement and Slytherin’s personal quarters, which he was gradually getting cleaned up. He noticed, though, that as he was avoiding Ron and Hermione, Snape was avoiding him.

‘Remember that there are wards on the door and no one may remove any potion brewed here without suffering serious injury and academic consequences,’ Snape announced as they bottled samples of their brews and handed them in at his desk. It was the same routine with all their NEWT potions. 

Harry had already handed in his sample, so now, it was up to him to get Snape alone. He had to act fast, because the sneaky Slytherin always disappeared as soon as class was dismissed. Chomping down on a Puking Pastille, Harry quite promptly vomited down his front, much to the disgust of Malfoy, who was sitting next to him.

‘Eugh, get away, Potter!’ he shouted, turning away and turning rather green himself. Harry gave Snape a panicked look as he vomited again, his breakfast being completely ushered out of his mouth and down into his open hands. Snape waved his wand and it vanished, only to be replaced as Harry vomited again.

‘Potter, I will escort you to the infirmary. Everyone else, you are dismissed.’

Before anyone could react, Snape grasped Harry’s upper arm and firmly directed him out of the dungeon.

‘Thank you…’ Harry vomited again as Snape waved it away, ‘sir.’

‘For cleaning you up or helping you out of the class?’ Snape muttered, obviously unhappy about the turn of events.

‘Both.’ Vomit. ‘We need to talk.’ Vomit.

‘You say that as if we have some sort of relationship that warrants talking,’ Snape said coolly. Harry hid the hurt from his professor’s comment by vomiting again. Things had gone well when they played chess, but apparently, something else was now amiss. Harry reluctantly allowed Snape to pull him into the hospital wing.

‘Poppy!’ he called loudly. ‘One of your students is amiss! Yet again,’ Snape said acidly to Harry, who groaned as he doubled over and vomited.

‘Oh goodness!’ the matron cried as she bustled in, vanishing the sick with her wand and summoning a pail for Harry. ‘Thank you, Severus, for seeing him down.’

Snape nodded and, grimacing at Potter’s puking form, turned and left.

 

Harry appeared for dinner than night, feeling rather queasy, despite having managed to take the fix end of the Puking Pastille, and having been carefully tended by Madam Pomfrey. Now he just had to see if his other plan to get Snape’s attention had worked. They did, after all, need to organize his lessons. Harry was quite sure this was the reason Snape was avoiding him, especially remembering how well Occlumency went last time.

He was also tired of being alone, so he decided he would take a chance and see what happened. Sitting hesitantly next to Ron, his movements were unnoticed as Snape stormed dramatically into the Great Hall, followed by a screeching Dobby.

‘But sir,’ Dobby cried, ‘but _sir_! You must listens to me!’

‘Albus!’ Snape bellowed. ‘I will not have this cretin visiting my personal quarters!’

Harry heard Hermione gasp and grinned to himself as he recalled her recent S.P.E.W. campaign.

‘Now, Severus,’ Dumbledore said gently, standing from the table and going over to the irritated professor and hysterical house-elf, ‘I’m sure we can work this out.’ He then motioned for them both to leave the hall with him, which they did.

Ron turned, and seemed surprised to see Harry next to him.

‘Mate,’ he breathed, suddenly contrite, ‘I’m really sorry. It went way further than I thought it would.’

‘Didn’t think to tell me, did you?’ Harry spat. Ron blushed a deep crimson.

‘We _did_ try, Harry,’ Hermione protested. ‘But we just gave up. We never thought you would _actually_ , you know,’ Hermione said conspiratorially in a whisper, ‘develop feelings for Professor Sn-’

‘I don’t,’ Harry snapped. ‘Didn’t,’ he added as an afterthought. Heaving a sigh, Harry grabbed his goblet of pumpkin juice and raised it. ‘Let’s just forget it, okay?’

Ron nodded and Hermione smiled.

‘To friends?’ Harry asked, lifting his goblet a little further. Hermione eagerly lifted her own and Ron followed suit.

‘To friends,’ they echoed, each drinking deeply.

 

Snape felt especially irritated that evening, and ended up remedying the feeling by pouring himself a generous glass of Firewhiskey. Dumbledore had told him about perhaps doing some extra lessons with Harry – advanced defence, strategy, duelling and, Snape thought with a sneer, Occlumency.

The thought of revisiting Occlumency with Potter had made Snape rather upset. Of course this would most likely destroy their new found civility. Of course Snape would most likely delve into Potter’s mind and find out what in Merlin’s name he was thinking when he started requesting Snape’s time outside the classroom, Amortentia or not. Of course there would be other disasters where Potter would come across some of _his_ memories.

He had to let it be. So he avoided Potter. Unfortunately, it didn’t take the young man that long to figure it out. There was the incident where he wouldn’t stop puking. A trademark prank sweet, Snape thought with a grimace, but he remembered what Potter had said: we need to talk. He assumed Harry meant about arranging lessons, but he still got the same flip-flop feeling in his stomach as when Lily had spoken those same words to him. But Lily had needed someone to talk about James Potter with. But some part of him desperately wanted to be optimistic about Harry.

Harry had also ordered a house elf to try and deliver a message to him, but as soon as he heard the name ‘Harry Potter’, he had tried to expel the poor creature from his quarters. It hadn’t worked very well and had only made the house elf’s voice go up an octave. So he had fled. But the damn thing had followed him, screeching for him to stop and listen. Potter sure knew how to grab his attention. Vomit and high pitched noises.

Swirling his last swallow of Firewhiskey around in his tumbler, Snape wondered if Dumbledore knew about his avoidance of Harry. His eyes had been twinkling especially bright when he had instructed Snape on how to properly order about a free house-elf and how to construct wards for his quarters against them. The house elf had been contrite and told the headmaster he only wished to deliver a message. The thing never actually told them what it was. Of course Dumbledore knew, Snape thought bitterly, downing the last of his drink. He always knew.

Sighing bitterly, Snape knew he didn’t have long before he received a personal visit from the headmaster. Pouring himself some more Firewhiskey, Snape wondered over his own feelings. Why should he care if the Potter boy hated him again? Why should he care if he wanted to talk? _Because you like having him around_ , a niggling voice in the back of his head whispered.

‘I do not,’ he said aloud, forcefully slamming his tumbler on the table. ‘Harry Potter is irritating, big-headed, obtuse, insufferable and cocky!’ he finished triumphantly.

_But he’s taking time to get to know you, Severus. He tries to appease you in class. He’s one of the best Potions students now because of it. He showed you the Chamber…_

So maybe he appreciated an apt pupil. But surely that was all there was to it. He did not have any feelings for Harry Potter other than an alliance-based camaraderie. But even as he told himself that, he knew he was lying, and he knew Dumbledore knew that, too.


	10. Connecting

### 

**Connecting**

Sighing in frustration, Harry worked diligently on his potion. Things were still slightly awkward with Ron and Hermione, but they were on friendlier terms than they had been before, so it was a start. Snape had been the biggest obstacle in his goal for a happy and normal life at the moment, besides Voldemort, of course. The infuriating Potions master had been very erratic the past week, with strange mood swings and would go from ignoring or avoiding Harry to starting up conversations with him in the hallways in between classes. It was almost enough to drive him crazy. He was beginning to question his feelings for the deranged man after all.

At the present moment, Snape seemed rather high-strung and ireful. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he saw a twitch in the professor’s face.

‘Granger!’ he shouted suddenly. ‘What are you doing!?’

Hermione froze, staring at Snape, horrified that she might be doing something wrong.

'Adding the powdered bicorn horn, sir?’

Snape scowled irritably and turned completely around and stalked the other way. Hermione looked hesitantly at Harry, who had become her second resource behind the teacher himself.

‘Don’t worry, Hermione, you’re doing it right, Snape’s just being a d-’

‘A _what_ , Mr Potter?’

Harry instantly felt like he had been plunged into a bucket of ice water. That furious voice froze his insides almost as well as Voldemort’s words could.

‘A…’ Harry’s mind seized as random thoughts flew through his head. ‘A d-d-duuuuuh?’ Harry stammered in a panic.

Snape was standing across the dungeon classroom staring at Harry, while the entire class, including Harry, was staring at Snape. His face was contorted into a confused sort of grimace.

‘See me after class, Mr Potter,’ he cried with a spastic sort of whole body twitch, before retreating hastily to his desk.

‘What the hell is wrong with him,’ Harry heard Malfoy scoff rather audibly to his bench mate. Harry was thinking more or less the same thing, but more along the lines of how it pertained to his survival chances. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. Though normally he would have relished the thought of some alone time with Snape, right now he didn’t know what to expect. He had the second and third volume of Slytherin’s notes in his bag, which he was beginning to think might just save his life. Snape motioned for the potions to be placed on the stewing racks and for clean up to start. Harry took all three potions he and his friends were brewing to the racks while Hermione and Ron started cleaning up.

Class was dismissed and Harry reluctantly trudged up to Snape’s desk. He watched as Snape purposefully ignored him for several moments before turning and fixing him with a slightly wide-eyed stare.

‘We will begin Occlumency Monday night,’ he said lightly, as if the revelation had come to him just then. ‘Be here at seven. Things will start off slow,’ he said slowly, ‘as Professor Dumbledore has need of his Pensieve at the moment.’

‘Can’t you get one for yourself?’ Harry inquired innocently. Snape sighed dramatically.

‘One cannot just simply walk into Diagon Alley and acquire a Pensieve, Potter,’ he explained, sounding more like himself. ‘The type of stone basin required for one is rather rare.’

‘As rare as these?’ Harry grinned, revealing the workbooks he had translated, and placing them on Snape’s desk. ‘I forgot to give you the second one after we had dinner.’

Snape flinched. Apparently he had touched a nerve.

‘Had dinner?’ Harry repeated, and again Snape flinched. ‘What about-’

‘That’s enough!’ Snape shouted, standing abruptly. ‘I will not be harassed by a student!’

Harry took a step back.

‘Who are you and what have you done with the real Severus Snape?’

A shudder went down Snape’s back as he took a second to revel in the way Harry said his first name.

‘Enough,’ Snape said icily, sitting back down. ‘Things have just been…’

He noticed Harry had sat down across the desk from him, looking at him intently.

‘What.’

‘You were explaining?’ Harry prompted. Snape scowled.

‘You moved.’

‘To listen better?’ Harry rolled his eyes, obviously trying to provoke Snape. Snape let it slide, for now.

‘Things have been…difficult, since your friends revealed their actions.’

Harry stiffened.

‘Sir,’ he said rather rigidly, ‘it is well known in Muggle psychology that if-’

‘Oh, cut the propriety bullshit,’ Snape snapped, ‘we both know what’s going on here.’

There was a pregnant pause before Harry took a deep breath.

‘We…do?’

Snape bolted up from his chair and began pacing. He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Get out.’

‘Sir?’ Harry pushed. ‘Can you ex-’

‘Out!’

Harry stood slowly, insolently.

‘If we could just-’

‘ _Out_ , Potter! _Out_!’

Harry saw the outraged look that Snape gave him and knew the real Snape was back in full force. With a shiver of fear and something else, he fled.

 

‘I can’t.’

‘Of course you can, dear boy,’ Dumbledore encouraged him heartily. Snape tried not to roll his eyes.

‘You don’t know Potter.’

‘ _Au contraire_ ,’ Dumbledore said with a conspiratorial smile, ‘I think I do.’

Snape straightened, narrowing his eyes at the old man.

‘What do you know that I don’t?’

‘Nothing, Severus,’ Dumbledore chuckled. ‘I only have a slightly more educated guess than yourself due to more experience on my part.’

It was Monday, just before dinner and the time was closing in for Snape’s Occlumency lesson with Harry. He had seen the boy in class, and he had looked distinctly distracted and tired. He had noticed the Granger girl had to offer him some help, which he accepted. _Strange_ , he had thought, for the new Potions star to not only accept but _need_ help from another pupil. Snape had already been dreading the return to Occlumency, but now, knowing Potter was anxious about it too, he was even more nervous.

‘Things will work out,’ Dumbledore told him with finality, gesturing to the door as he rose. ‘It is time to eat and _then_ time for you to give your attentions to Harry Potter.’

Snape flinched at Dumbledore’s wording, but stood and followed the old headmaster out of his office.

 

‘Come in,’ Snape called, his voice tight. The door opened and Harry ducked in, shoulders sagging and looking hesitant. ‘We don’t have all night,’ Snape snapped. ‘Ready yourself.’

Harry stepped forward and drew his wand. He felt queasy, nerves churning his dinner furiously in his stomach, his whole body tense with anticipation.

‘ _Legilimens_.’

Harry’s view of the classroom clouded as he recounted the dream he had been plagued with the night before.

_He was running through endless dark stone hallways, turning left, turning right, always running. A chilling laugh was echoing all around him, making his skin crawl, pushing him to run further, run faster. His legs ached, his breath felt fiery in his dry throat and lungs, and sweat was beading cold upon his brow. But the laughter was getting louder, the fear in his chest was squeezing harder, his stomach was churning more forcefully…_

Harry fell to his knees and coughed, vomiting all over the floor. His breath was coming in shuddering gasps and he was shaking violently. He was vaguely aware of Snape moving behind him as he vomited again. The sick vanished and he collapsed to the cold floor, hyperventilating.

Snape felt the fear rolling off Harry in thick waves. He had definitely not expected Harry’s defences to fall so easily, nor to come across such a terrifying memory so quickly. Usually Harry was at least slightly defensive of his more personal and vulnerable memories and dreams. Instead of berating the young man, however, he went to his aid. He fell to his knees and got sick, so Snape vanished it, just in time, as Harry then collapsed. He put his hands on Harry’s back, feeling his breaths coming in short gasps.

‘Easy,’ he muttered, grabbing Harry’s shoulders to roll him over. Harry’s face was very white, his eyes shut and his brow furrowed.

‘He’s going to kill me,’ he whispered, not opening his eyes.

‘No,’ Snape growled, shaking Harry firmly by the shoulders.

Harry opened his eyes and Snape was again met with a look of hurt and pain. He could barely stand to meet Harry’s eyes, but he knew exactly what he had to say when he looked into their depths.

‘I won’t let him.’

Green eyes stared into black for an intense moment before shutting. A deep sigh escaped Harry, as if that was all he needed to hear. The atmosphere between them relaxed and Snape sat back, removing his hands from Harry’s shoulders.

‘We both know what’s going on here,’ Harry breathed.

Snape frowned, recognizing the words.

‘What?’

Harry closed his eyes and nodded.

‘Go again.’

‘Again what?’

Harry looked at Snape, remaining still.

‘Go in my head.’

Snape paused, but felt driven by a morbid curiosity, wondering what was at the end of the hallway.

_His legs ached, his breath felt fiery in his dry throat and lungs, and sweat was beading cold upon his brow. But the laughter was getting louder, the fear in his chest was squeezing harder, his stomach was churning more forcefully. He ran towards a door, it was slightly open and the laughter was coming from behind it. With a burst of speed, he rushed through the door. It slammed open and he pulled himself to a stop. Voldemort stood laughing over the twisted body of Severus Snape. A moaning sound was emanating from him as he pulled himself slowly across the floor in agony._

_‘No!’ He flew at Voldemort, a red hot surge of power coursing through his body and exploding through his outstretched fingertips. Voldemort screamed and whirled as he threw himself across Snape’s body just as the killing curse hit him._

Snape pulled himself up, standing over Harry’s panting form. He had sacrificed himself for him. It was a dream, but it had felt real enough. The intense fear, the aching muscles, the twisting stomach.

‘So now we both know what’s going on here,’ Snape ground out. Harry refused to meet his eyes.

‘Dobby,’ Snape called. A crack resounded in the dungeon and the house elf appeared.

‘Yes sir? What can I be doing for Professor Snape, sir?’

‘Escort Mr Potter to his dormitory,’ Snape instructed him coldly, his eyes remaining on Harry until he was helped out by the elf, still refusing to look at him.

‘So that _is_ what’s going on here,’ he muttered to himself.


	11. Chess

### 

**Chess**

Harry left Snape’s dungeon classroom feeling immensely tired. Dobby was quiet for once, firmly gripping his elbow and steering him down hallways and up staircases. Harry was still caught up in reliving his dream from the night before. The dream that had filled him with such panic, such pain. He had seen Severus – when had he started thinking of him as Severus? – at Voldemort’s feet and had been overwhelmed with the urge to protect and save.

He realized he wasn’t entirely sure he knew what Severus was talking about when he had said ‘ _we both know what’s going on here_ ’, but given the context, he had taken a guess. It was a stab in the dark, really, though, because one never could tell what was going on in Severus Snape’s head. He could have been alluding to something entirely different. Groaning, Harry knew he could very well have made a grievous mistake, showing Severus that dream. But what could he do about it now? There weren’t exactly any Time Turners left over from the rampage he lead through the Department of Mysteries.

Harry stopped. He was at the portrait of the Fat Lady and Dobby was looking at him earnestly, wringing his hands.

‘Dobby should be gettings to work now, Harry Potter sir,’ he squeaked.

‘Oh, yeah, go,’ Harry told him. The elf grinned and with a crack, disappeared.

Sighing, Harry spoke the password and climbed into the Gryffindor common room. Hermione and Ron were on a couch, relaxing rather than studying, for once. They both started when they saw Harry come through the hole, Hermione gaping at him as she stood to meet him.

‘Harry! You look awful! What happened? You’ve only been gone a half hour!’

Ron remained seated, but still looked worried. Harry shrugged.

‘Se-Snape saw something he didn’t want to.’

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look.

‘Harry, did it have to do with… _him_?’

‘What, Voldemort?’

Hermione rolled her eyes.

‘No, about _Snape_ , Harry,’ she said quietly. Harry could feel the colour rising in his cheeks. ‘This whole thing with the prank hasn’t exactly blown over yet,’ she continued, with a pointed look at Harry.

‘If you mean about how I feel…’

‘Of course that’s what I mean!’ Hermione exclaimed. ‘Harry, if we thought Snape’s been acting strangely these days, it’s only a reflection of you.’

Harry stopped. Had he been acting strangely as well?

Ron shook his head, grinning in spite of himself.

‘You’ve been really jittery, Harry,’ Hermione stated.

‘And you haven’t been sleeping well,’ Ron added, with a look that told him his restlessness was keeping Ron awake some nights.

‘That’s it?!’ Harry couldn’t help but blurt out.

‘No, Harry,’ Hermione pleaded, sitting down and gesturing for Harry to do the same. He reluctantly sat across from his concerned friends.

‘You seem worried and preoccupied,’ Hermione said, trying to meet Harry’s eyes. He looked away.

‘It’s the NEWTs,’ he reasoned.

‘No, it’s not,’ Ron argued. ‘You’re bonkers.’

‘Ron!’ Hermione insisted. ‘Please.’

‘Look mate,’ Ron offered, ‘you can’t continue this. The joke is over. I mean, it’s halfway through May. That was _ages_ ago.’

Harry sighed.

‘I’m not joking anymore.’

Hermione and Ron exchanged a worried glance.

‘So, you’re saying you actually have _feelings_ for Snape?’ Hermione prompted.

‘Unfortunately,’ Harry answered ruefully. ‘Because I think I just bunged things up.’

Ron had turned slightly pink and was looking at Harry as if he were something slimy he had discovered under a rock. With a sound of disgust, he stood and stormed upstairs to the boys’ dorm.

Harry groaned.

‘That wasn’t what Ron wanted to hear.’

Hermione gave Harry a sad smile.

‘No, he’s not very fond of Snape. I’m not sure if it’s just the fact that it’s _Snape_ , or if it’s just the _man_ part of it…’ Hermione said quietly, as her eyes drifted to the staircase to the boys’ dorm.

Harry pushed his face into his hands, running his fingers up into his hair in a frustrated manner, shaking the strands and altogether completely messing up his hair.

‘I knew this was a bad idea. I should have just ignored the feelings.’

‘You can’t help who you fall for, Harry,’ Hermione told him encouragingly.

‘But now I’ve gone and fucked things up with Severus _and_ fucked things up with Ron,’ Harry said with finality. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked Hermione straight in the eyes. ‘The man has been through Hell for the good of wizard-kind. He’s been through Hell for _me_. He’s dark and cold and sarcastic and _mean_ ,’ Harry took another shaky breath. ‘But I can’t get him out of my head. I want to be around him all the time. I want to learn from him, I want to _learn_ about him. He makes me crazy, Hermione! I had a dream about him on Sunday night…’

‘Which you really don’t have to tell me about,’ Hermione interjected, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Harry blushed.

‘Not _that_ kind of dream.’

‘Oh, well, then, do go on.’

‘He was being tortured by Voldemort,’ Harry said quietly. ‘I found them in some sort of stone castle, and just when he was about to kill him…I jumped in front.’

Hermione stared at him for a moment before blinking and frowning.

‘You… _died_ …for him?’

Harry nodded.

Hermione took another moment to digest his words.

‘Well, that’s big Harry. If you would…die for him.’

‘It’s the least I could do,’ Harry said. ‘It’s the least anyone could do, after what he’s done.’

Hermione nodded in agreement and the two friends then sat in silence.

 

He had worked so hard at avoiding Potter that he had missed their Saturday chess game, which he now sorely regretted. And what did he have to show for it? A young man who was still obviously wrongly infatuated with him and an irritability caused by lack of chess. Severus hated his current situation, but he was at a loss of what to do. He had been denying his growing fondness for Potter and he wasn’t going to stop now. He was quite satisfied being completely ignorant of the fact that he would do just about anything for the young man, in his own way of course.

Potter had given him many gifts, freely, with no price tag besides furthering their relationship in a positive direction. Severus had no complaints about it, now that it was happening. So why did he find himself pacing his sitting room more often than not? Why was he kept up at night, wondering if Potter was having nightmares or was practising clearing his mind before bed? Why did he feel proud when Potter had a ridiculously perfect potion?

Sighing in an emotionless way that was distinctly Severus Snape, he stared into the flames flickering in his fireplace. He was itching to play chess. Potter had reignited his passion for the game. He had been the reigning champion in Slytherin and had remained undefeated, but then had rarely played since leaving Hogwarts.

Tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair, Severus decided that perhaps it was time to pay the Gryffindors a little visit.

 

Harry and Hermione were still sitting in comfortable silence when the portrait door opened and admitted a rather sour looking Severus Snape.

Hermione startled first, which startled Harry into sliding off the couch with a loud thump. Severus lightened slightly, trying not to roll his eyes.

‘Sir,’ Hermione squeaked as Harry scrambled back to his feet, his stomach tightening into a knot, ‘is something wrong?’

‘No. I merely wished to rectify an inconsistency concerning Mr Potter, if I may,’ he explained, giving her a look that clearly told her to get lost. Hermione didn’t miss the hint and nodded, fleeing upstairs to the girls’ dorm.

‘Come with me, Mr Potter,’ Snape beckoned. Harry swallowed hard and followed behind.

 

It didn’t take long before Harry knew where they were going. He recognized the door with a thrill and a surge of fear. The forbidden third floor corridor.

‘Sir, is Fluffy still kept here?’

‘He is not. Hagrid transferred him to Gringotts where he serves as a very effective thief deterrent.’

Severus opened the door and let Harry inside. It looked strangely empty without the towering, slavering, three-headed dog, but considerably safer.

‘After you,’ Severus gestured, pulling open the trap door.

‘And the Devil’s Snare?’ Harry asked warily.

‘Transplanted several years ago. I’ll charm you down.’

Harry jumped into the trap door and felt magic surge around him, slowing his fall to the bottom. There was no Devil’s Snare anymore, but the walls were still wet and dripping. Severus stepped to the floor behind him and wordlessly gestured him forwards to the sloping corridor to the chamber of enchanted keys.

‘Do we have to catch the proper key?’

‘No,’ Severus sighed, beginning to think his idea was more bothersome than it was worth. Harry was obviously not relaxing being in a place so closely linked to one of his early battles with the Dark Lord.

They walked through the brightly lit chamber and Harry noticed that there was no door at the opposite side, nor any brooms or flying keys. The doorway across the chamber was very dark, but as they entered, light flooded the room to reveal a very chilling sight for Harry.

It was McGonagall’s chess set; still exactly as they - he, Ron and Hermione - had found it in their first year, ready to play. He remembered Ron, knocked out by the white queen. But then he remembered the look of disgust on Ron’s face when he told him how he felt about Severus. The look on his face he imagined if Ron found out he was here, with _Snape_.

Harry looked at Severus, unsure as to what they were going to do. It had made him aware they had missed their last chess match, but that still didn’t explain what they were doing in the chess chamber on the way to the Philosopher’s Stone.

‘We shall now play our missed game,’ Severus announced, his voice echoing against the walls and off the stone chessmen.

‘Sir?’

‘You are white, are you not? Take the place of the king.’

The white king across the board moved off to the side, leaving space for Harry. Slightly unsure of himself, Harry crossed the expansive board and stood behind his chessmen. He saw Severus take the place of the black king.

‘Here we go,’ Harry muttered to himself. He quietly started directing his troops. It was significantly different, playing from the perspective of being on the board. Knights were sneakier and harder to see coming, and he always had to keep his eyes on Severus’ bishops and rooks.

It seemed to go on for hours, but Harry was relentless, racking his brain for tidbits Severus had told him that he had stashed away precisely for a match like this.

The sides of the room were littered with fallen stone statues. The board was finally clear, with only Harry and two pawns left. He stood in the very right corner of the board, a safe position, Severus had told him. Good for at least a draw or stalemate. Severus was one square over and two squares back from his position, his last knight to his right. Harry’s two pawns stood side-by-side five squares over and five squares away. They seemed completely out of reach and Harry suddenly felt very exposed now that Severus’ knight had just taken his last bishop.

‘There isn’t always strength in numbers, Potter,’ Severus said with a satisfied smirk as Harry stood thinking of his next move. ‘I think I’ll take you down myself.’

Harry directed one of his pawns forward and Severus moved his knight after it. If Harry didn’t move it again, the knight would capture it. But wait…Harry squinted as he peered across the board. Wasn’t his pawn almost at the other side? He directed it forward one more square and suddenly he heard moving rock. One of Harry’s fallen knights cheered silently from the sidelines. Grinning, Harry faced Severus.

‘I promote my pawn to a queen.’

Severus’ eyes widened as he turned around to witness the pawn transforming into a queen.

‘Check.’

Growling, Severus moved diagonally. The queen moved to follow, but was blocked by the knight. Severus continued diagonally until he reached the edge of the board. Harry’s queen smashed his knight down and dragged him off. It was just Severus against Harry and his queen.

‘I can’t move,’ he breathed after a moment in disbelief.

‘You can’t?’

‘It’s illegal to move into check,’ Severus snapped. ‘And there are only two moves I could make without moving into check, both of which you could easily catch me in a checkmate.’

Harry stared at him.

‘I concede to you,’ Severus sighed. ‘You win this round.’

‘I win?’ Harry repeated.

‘That’s what I just said, isn’t it?’ Severus growled.

Harry grinned and jogged over to him.

‘Congratulations, Potter.’

‘Thank you sir. I learned from the best,’ he smiled cheekily. Severus accepted the thinly veiled compliment as they left the chamber, the stone chessmen returning to their places with quiet, low rumblings and scrapings.

‘Shall we resume our Occlumency lesson?’

Harry gave Severus a startled look, but nodded.

‘We can try.’


	12. Positively Friendly

### 

**Positively Friendly**

‘You’re kidding.’

Harry had just relayed his victory over Severus, on McGonagall’s giant chess set, no less, to Hermione and Ron. Ron was grumpily ignoring him it seemed, until he finished his story. Ron was now staring at him, wide-eyed with disbelief.

‘You beat him on the giant chess set?’ Hermione squealed delightedly. ‘That’s amazing, Harry!’

‘Match. Now.’ Ron demanded, running upstairs to the boys’ dorm to get his chess set. Harry laughed bashfully as Hermione grinned at him. Perhaps they would overcome the awkwardness brought about by Harry’s admission, through the game.

It was a relaxed game on Harry’s part. He didn’t care too much about beating Ron, he had beat Severus, after all. He certainly showed his skill, however, and wasn’t afraid to be a tad ruthless. Ron was fixated on the board, determined to beat The Boy Who Beat Snape. It was a close match. Hermione watched avidly, asking questions when Ron or Harry pulled out a special move.

‘Stalemate,’ Ron muttered. He had spent the last five minutes staring at the board. He had no move that didn’t put his king into check. Neither did Harry, after another five minutes of close examination. He looked up at Harry and nodded.

‘Good game,’ Harry grinned. Ron grinned back.

‘I still can’t believe you _like_ that greasy nutter,’ Ron grimaced, running his fingers through his hair.

‘Can’t help who you fall for,’ Harry repeated sagely. Hermione giggled.

Ron rolled his eyes.

‘Harry, I mean really. Men? Fine. Whatever, I can deal with that,’ he said in a way that made Harry think he probably really couldn’t. ‘But _Snape_? Come on!’

Harry felt himself prickle with irritation.

‘Just shut up,’ he snapped. ‘Nothing’s going to happen anyways.’

Ron flushed.

‘Better not,’ Harry thought he heard him say before he hurriedly packed up his chess set and marched upstairs.

Harry groaned and threw himself back into his squashy armchair. He was exhausted already. Occlumency, chess, _more_ chess. He didn’t need an argument with Ron now. Especially over something he couldn’t even help.

 

‘Sit down.’

Severus was pacing behind his desk as Harry entered for their weekly chess match. Harry paused at his tone, but obediently sat at his usual conjured chair.

‘It seems to me,’ Severus began in an icy tone, ‘that you are harbouring unhealthy feelings for…’ at this point, he cleared his throat uncomfortably, ‘…for me.’ He was turned away from Harry, making no move to face him. Harry felt his face flame with embarrassment. He didn’t know what to say, or what the Potions professor wanted him to say.

‘It’s ridiculous!’ Severus shouted, suddenly turning. His face was screwed up into a terrible scowl, every inch of it angry and red. His shoulders were suddenly heaving with heavy breaths. ‘You cannot-’ he began frantically pacing again, ‘- _cannot_ be interested in me. I am for _one_ , your professor. I am for _two_ , one of your protectors in the Order of the Phoenix, I am for _three_ an _incorrigible, unlovable git_!’

It seemed to Harry that Severus had been holding this in all week, which fully explained his continued agitated and frenetic way of acting during class.

Harry looked away sadly.

‘I can’t help it, sir,’ he said quietly, his face, he was sure, a bright red. ‘But I won’t let it interfere with our established relationship!’ Harry said earnestly. Severus stared at him for a moment before pacing again.

‘No, I mean you must be _mistaken_. You must be still _deluding yourself_ into thinking you have feelings of attraction for me,’ Severus choked out unevenly. He glared at Harry accusingly.

‘I haven’t spoken to Ron all week because of this,’ Harry suddenly spat. ‘He thinks it’s just as crazy as you do! I’m so sick of this, and of _you people_!’ Harry stood, throwing the chair backwards and giving it a hard kick, just for good measure and to help vent his frustration. ‘It’s not my fault!’ He shouted, turning and kicking the chair again, breaking one of the leg supports. ‘It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault!’ He began kicking at the desks, as well, in rhythm with his enraged shouting. He turned back to Severus, expecting to see him angrily towering over him, ready to give him detention. Instead, he was still standing at the front, stock still, staring at him with a mixture of confusion and sadness.

‘I know, Harry,’ he said after a moment.

Harry huffed an indignant sigh, looking away. They stood in an awkward silence for several more moments before Severus took a seat at his desk and cleared his throat. The chess board was open and set up.

‘Shall we? You’re white.’

 

Harry didn’t know what to make of their new relationship. Since their strange chess match, they had been even more than civil, they had been – dare he say it – positively friendly. They had taken tea after his rather productive Occlumency lesson on the following Monday, and Severus had even wished Harry good luck for the approaching Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch Cup. Harry didn’t know what to make of it, but didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

If Harry was confused, that was nothing compared to how Severus was dealing with the recent turn of events. He had planned to dash the rest of the silly thoughts Potter was having about him by shouting at him before their chess match, but Potter had thrown a tantrum that Severus remembered having once, himself, but in front of his father instead. That had been a terrible night and Severus was determined that Harry should not be beaten or shamed or ignored for something that…wasn’t his fault.

But _him_? Why did the Potter boy have to have feelings for him? Why not his Weasley friend? Or another Gryffindor lad? Or _any_ other lad? Potter was graduating soon, Severus had to admit to himself. Their student-professor relationship would not be an issue, and it wasn’t unheard of for a young Hogwarts professor to fall for a student and then pursue them after graduation. And Severus was still a young Hogwarts professor, by any means. He would be for at least another decade, as well. The issue that he was a man and Harry was a man wasn’t a problem at all. Severus always knew he would never fall for any other woman than Lily Evans. But the fact that it was Harry Potter was the problem. Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived, the prophesied saviour of the wizarding world, the son of both his sworn enemy and best friend. The son of the one woman he would forever love. This was what Severus had a problem with. As well, he was Severus Snape: betrayer of the Potters, Death Eater, Voldemort’s right-hand man, and Hogwarts torturer of Harry Potter. It was unfeasible that they could ever have a mutually friendly relationship. Yet here they were – dare he say it – positively friendly.

He couldn’t let it continue. He had to try again. To be friendly was one thing, but he knew where this would go. It was the same way his few intimate relationships had gone. There was a mutual attraction and friendliness. Eager to learn more about each other, they would grow close, spend more time together. But then the real Severus Snape would be revealed and suddenly, they wouldn’t want to be around him anymore. He didn’t think he could handle it if Harry Potter didn’t want to be around him anymore. The young man’s magical aura was addictive. Severus loved feeling his magic surge when they practised duelling. He desperately awaited their chess games, seeing Harry’s raw intellect emerge. He appreciated Harry’s determination to learn what was important during their Potions classes, and he was beginning to even feel excitement for their Monday night Occlumency lessons, rather than the expected dread.

Sighing, Severus knew they would have to get over this hurdle he had built up in his mind, one way or another. He looked at the clock on his desk. The hand was still pointed to ‘marking papers’ even though he didn’t even have any papers on his desk. It would be pointing to the recently added ‘Occlumency’ shortly, he knew. He heard the door open and saw the Severus hand shift positions.

‘Sorry I’m a little early, Professor,’ Harry told him. Severus shook his head.

‘No, you’re precisely on time,’ he said vaguely. ‘Sit.’

Harry tensed, immediately remembering the last time the professor told him to sit.

‘Sit?’ Severus asked him again. Slowly, Harry sank into a chair. ‘I want to show you something.’ He stood and walked over to Harry, towering over him menacingly.

‘Severus Snape is not a good person,’ he told Harry. ‘I’m a Death Eater. I betrayed you, your parents, and the entire wizarding world. I have tormented you through your entire Hogwarts career. I have done terrible, terrible things,’ he concluded darkly, hoping this was enough to scare the young man away. Harry’s eyes were wide, but not from fear, as Severus supposed. They were wide with surprise.

‘Let me show you.’

Suddenly, Severus was in Harry’s mind, running through a dark field, Voldemort’s eerie laughter echoing all around him. Harry followed him as he and other Death Eaters descended on a Muggle village, lighting houses on fire and torturing the residents. Severus was just as active as the other Death Eaters, calmly torturing a family.

Suddenly, Harry was standing next to him, watching as his fellow Death Eaters tortured a naked witch with a dagger, dragging it across her bare flesh, red rivulets beading up in its wake. She was screaming, her voice haggard as if she had been doing it for hours.

The scene dissolved and Severus was lurching around his personal quarters. Dumbledore was standing near the fireplace, trying to reason with him over something, but Severus’ memory was impeded by his drunken state. Harry could only hear a far away murmur.

‘Shut up! Go away!’ Severus yelled at Dumbledore, throwing an empty Firewhiskey bottle across the room at him. Dumbledore raised his wand and the bottle vanished before it reached him. He said something else and Severus pointed his wand at him.

‘I tooold you to go…away! _Sectum_ -’

Everything went black.

Harry was staring up at Severus.

‘I am a bad person. Do not get involved with me.’

Harry frowned and shook his head.

‘Do you want me to show you more?’

Harry stood, forcing Severus back.

‘You _were_ a Death Eater, but now you’re a spy for the Order. You made a mistake, but you tried to repair it. He would’ve found out anyways. You tormenting me was only one extreme in comparison to another,’ Harry said, looking away. ‘Most everyone else treats me like some kind of superhero, some kind of _legend_.’ He gave Severus a wry smirk. ‘We both know I’m not. You were the counter to all that. And now, you’re the happy medium.’

‘I’m not happy,’ Severus replied haughtily. Harry rolled his eyes.

‘You’re missing my point. We’ve all done terrible things. What matters is why we do it, and what we do to rectify it. You do it to keep your cover. You do it to help us.’

Harry drew a shaky breath, trying to calm his raging insides. Was he just going to make it worse? Was he going to make him angry? Was he overstepping the bounds?

Severus noticed the action and felt his stomach tighten. Harry Potter had to be the most infuriating and frustrating Gryffindor in the history of the world. But this meant that he wasn’t concerned with his past. He was concerned with him, as he was, right now.

They made eye contact at long last.

‘I am a terrible person,’ Severus repeated.

Harry gave a half-hearted laugh and looked up at the ceiling. Severus felt his hands itch. Itch to touch Harry Potter.

‘You’re not a terrible person, Severus,’ Harry told him quietly. He turned away and Severus felt the loss intensely. Harry reached for his bag and withdrew a small package. With a wave of his wand, the package expanded.

‘These are the rest of Slytherin’s notebooks,’ he told him, putting the stack of books on Severus’ desk. ‘I-’

Severus’ hand shot out, seemingly of its own accord, the Potions Master thought bemusedly, and grabbed Harry’s wrist. Harry’s head jerked around and he stared intently into Severus’ black eyes.

‘Harry…’

Severus couldn’t seem to remember where he put his words. He was lost in those green eyes. The eyes that reminded him so strongly of Lily, but the eyes that were still uniquely Harry.

‘I…’ Harry choked. His wrist was burning, his entire being focused on the feeling of Severus’ hand wrapped around his wrist. His calloused, rough hand that felt so perfect.

There was no silence between them. Blood pounded in their ears, their pulses raced, their stomachs knotted up. Suddenly, something in Severus snapped and he pulled Harry in close, squeezing his wrist to his chest. They were face to face, noses only inches apart. Harry could feel the Potions professor’s laboured breath on his face.

‘You…are ridiculous,’ he muttered, frowning, as if he was suddenly completely unsure of himself. But Harry had never been surer.

‘ _You_ …are amazing,’ he smirked, planting his lips firmly on Severus’.


	13. New Beginnings

### 

**New Beginnings**

Severus felt the kiss like an electric shock that sparked at his lips and coursed all the way through his body. His hands went up and grabbed the back of the hopeless Gryffindor’s head, pushing. Their lips mashed closer together as the intensity of their kiss skyrocketed. He felt Harry’s sharp intake of breath and relinquished some of his grip. Severus tentatively slipped his tongue along Harry’s lips and as soon as he was allowed entrance, he smashed his way inside.

He had been deprived of physical contact for too long, held back from love for too long; he kissed Harry like a starving man eats food. They stumbled towards Severus’ desk, and Harry sat down clumsily on the surface as Severus devoured his mouth. Harry moaned softly. He felt sick and gloriously warm and elated all at the same time. The butterflies in his stomach had turned to birds, clamouring to get out. But the kiss – this acceptance of him, this wanting of him – was warming him head to foot.

They broke apart breathlessly and stared into each others’ eyes intently for a moment.

‘This is wrong,’ Severus said quietly. His eyes were searching, as if yearning for Harry to deny it. Harry wanted to deny it, wanted to refute it.

‘It can’t be,’ he whispered. But he knew it was true. They still had to maintain the decorum of a student-professor relationship, in the very least for another month. Harry felt the birds calm as Severus leaned back, looking down at Harry condescendingly.

‘You know it is, Potter.’

Harry couldn’t help it. After their friendship had grown, after their connection, after their _kiss_ , he was calling him _Potter_. Angry tears welled up in his eyes.

‘Of course, _sir_ ,’ he spat.

Severus noticed the vitriol in Harry’s answer. He leaned over and lifted Harry’s chin with a long finger, staring down his nose into Harry’s eyes.

‘Please call me Severus,’ he breathed. Harry swallowed. Hard.

‘Only if you call me Harry.’

Severus nodded, once. He made to move back, but Harry caught him.

‘Sir…Severus,’ he said quietly. ‘I just…need to know.’

‘Know what?’ Severus asked delicately, raising an eyebrow eloquently. Harry sighed, rolling his eyes and tossing his head. He was obviously at a loss for words. Harry stood, grabbed his face, and slammed his mouth into Severus’, pushing with so much need, so much desperation, that they crossed the room and knocked into the closed Potions classroom door. Harry left Severus’ mouth to trail small, delicate kisses along his jaw line.

Severus grunted, trying desperately to maintain his self control and push Harry off.

‘Enough,’ he said half-heartedly. The kisses felt so nice. He felt a thrill go down his spine as Harry trailed down the side of his neck. He grabbed Harry’s arms firmly and pushed him back. The youth stood back, looking hurt.

‘We cannot,’ he insisted.

‘I know,’ Harry admitted, trying to turn away, but Severus held firm.

‘P-Harry, you’ve given me so much,’ Severus began. ‘Books, potion ingredients, your time, your effort, and now you are offering you, yourself. I do not take this lightly.’

Harry blinked, waiting.

‘I will wait,’ Severus said slowly, letting the meaning of his words sink in, ‘to pursue you, if you will do the same.’

Harry deflated slightly, the breath he’d been holding finally released. He grinned and Severus felt his heart lighten.

‘I’d wait a whole ‘nother year!’ he said jubilantly.

The corners of Severus’ mouth threatened a smile.

‘We will keep our chess appointments and Occlumency lessons as they are,’ Severus continued, reluctantly letting go of Harry’s arms. ‘Perhaps we could add a night to enjoy dinner in one another’s company?’

Harry smiled, then looked thoughtful.

‘No more antidotes?’

Severus couldn’t help the smirk this time.

‘No, I’m quite certain you are incurably crazy.’

‘Good,’ Harry told him. He gathered up his bag, then, with another small smile gracing a rather red face, Harry made his way past him and left.

‘That wasn’t so bad,’ Severus admitted out loud, once he was alone, ‘for an Occlumency lesson.’

 

Harry’s days were full. Quidditch was finally over, with Gryffindor bringing home the cup. Draco Malfoy looked like he was sucking on lemons for a week afterwards and didn’t even have anything snide to say to Harry. Ron was talking to him again, but Harry was terrified to tell him about the new Wednesday night dinners, or the kiss. He had told Hermione, of course, who was perfectly scandalized by Harry’s account of the kiss.

‘But he’s a _professor_!’ she had exclaimed.

He placated her by telling her their deal.

Harry and Hermione were walking on eggshells around Ron, careful not to let anything slip. It was tiring, what with everything else they had going on.

Classes were growing more and more busy, with more assignments, more practicums, more essays. Hermione had drafted up version three of a study schedule, fine tuning it to what she believed each of them needed to work on the most.

‘Ron, you’re terrible at these six charms, you need to work on the practical side of them. But to do that, you need to know the theory and the base,’ she instructed him. ‘Harry, you need to study the plant family _Solanacea_ , and _I_ need to work on my wand work for these defensive spells,’ she finished with a sigh, gesturing to their study schedules.

But despite the stress and busyness and the inability to physically further his relationship with Severus, Harry couldn’t have been happier. Voldemort was quiet; Severus admitted that he was waiting for the prime opportunity. Dumbledore seemed optimistic, and despite the way the Quidditch cup worked out, house tension was at an all time low.

It was June seventeenth and Harry and Severus were enjoying their fourth Wednesday night dinner together. Severus was an amazing cook, it turned out. Their first dinner, when Severus had tried to give Harry an antidote, had been put together by the Hogwarts kitchen and was botched by nerves and poorly administered potions. Now, Severus was in his element, creating delicious masterpieces for their enjoyment.

‘It’s really only a useful extension of Potions,’ he had told Harry when Harry had expressed his surprise that Severus liked to cook. ‘Chopping and dicing ingredients, heating over a flame for the right amount of time. It’s a very similar, but generally tastier, science.’

Tonight they were feasting on stuffed pork tenderloin. Harry had helped chop the peaches, apple, cherries, sage and onion for the stuffing. Severus had been in charge of actually baking the thing, and together they had thrown together a crisp tossed salad. Along for the ride were some boiled baby potatoes in a cheesy dill sauce and a bottle of white wine.

‘Don’t tell the headmaster,’ Severus half-smiled as he poured wine into Harry’s glass.

The conversation, as usual, turned to the upcoming NEWTs.

‘By this time next week, I’ll be done my Potions NEWT,’ Harry said with a mouthful of potato. Severus frowned.

‘If I don’t see at least an Exceeds Expectations…’ Severus warned.

‘I know, I know,’ Harry said. ‘You’ll never speak to me again, right?’

‘You need it for your choice of career, do you not? That in itself should be motivation,’ Severus told him. He had no intention of holding back communication from the young man, but it would be highly disappointing, especially since Harry was showing such promise in the field.

Harry poked nervously at his potatoes.

‘I’m not really concerned about becoming an Auror, really.’

Severus knew where this was going. It had been too quiet for too long. Something wasn’t right. Even Severus had to admit that even he didn’t know when Voldemort would strike. The tension in the wizarding world was starting to mount again.

‘I have no doubt that no matter what, you will be able to vanquish the Dark Lord,’ Severus said mildly. ‘You need only have faith in yourself and your abilities, and trust in those around you.’

Harry nodded, digging back into his meal.

‘Next week it starts,’ he said reluctantly at the door when it was finally time to go. NEWTs began on Monday.

‘We shall forgo our chess match this Saturday. Devote your spare time to study. There will be plenty of time after your exams for chess and idle chatter.’

‘You sound like such a professor,’ Harry muttered. Severus smirked.

‘I _am_ your professor. For another week and a half,’ he added.

 

The graduation ceremony was quiet. A dinner with invited family was held in the Great Hall, the absence of other students made up for by the presence of parents, siblings, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Harry was alone. No family had made the trek, and some parents were rather surprised, looking over at Gryffindor table, at Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, surrounded by Weasleys instead of his own relatives.

The dinner had been nice. Good food, good friends. Harry and Hermione had been able to avoid the topic of Severus, Potions, his feelings, everything, so the talk was fast and cheerful. Harry sat wedged between Ron and Mrs Weasley, across from Hermione and her parents. Every so often, Dumbledore would walk by, offer congratulations, talk with Hermione about a Transfiguration question and compliment Arthur Weasley on recent work at the Ministry. Dessert was finished by nine, and slowly, the families made their way to the entrance hall.

Hermione melted down first, tears leaking from her eyes as she hugged Professor McGonagall.

‘There, there, Ms Granger, you are always welcome to visit,’ she said kindly, patting the bushy-haired young woman on the back. 

Ron seemed rather pale and miserable when the realization came to him that this was his last moment in Hogwarts as a student. Harry felt weak and shaky, even though he had already made arrangements with Dumbledore to stay at the school over summer. Even though he was staying, he was no longer a student.

They went around to their various professors, saying goodbyes and receiving well-wishes in return. Hugs and smiles were exchanged. Professor McGonagall remained stoically misty-eyed, but never did her tears fall. Dumbledore, however, had an unabashedly wet face as he hugged his students farewell. Ron, Harry and Hermione made their way through their professors, coming at last to Severus Snape.

‘Well, sir, I guess this is goodbye,’ Hermione said wistfully, snuffling. ‘You were an amazing professor. Really.’ She nudged Ron in the ribs and he nodded.

‘Oh, yes. You really knew how to teach,’ he added lamely. Hermione didn’t try to hide her eye roll. Severus shook Hermione’s hand, but made no move to take Ron’s, and Ron made no move to offer.

Hermione convinced Ron to move away with her, towards Dumbledore and the front door, keeping him distracted enough not to notice Harry staying behind.

‘Sir, it’s been a pleasure,’ Harry said confidently, holding out his hand. Severus took it with a smile. They had already been given their results so all the graduates could start their job searches over the summer. He had received an ‘outstanding’ in Potions. Severus couldn’t have been more proud. 

‘It certainly has,’ Severus said shortly, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him close to whisper in his ear. ‘My quarters, eleven o’clock?’

‘Done,’ Harry said firmly, pulling away. They nodded and parted ways.

‘And here is Mr Potter!’ Dumbledore gestured fondly as Harry joined his two friends in front of the headmaster. ‘You three have something very special, you know.’

They all smiled at each other, Hermione tearing up again already.

‘I see many students make and break friendships over the years, but few remain with the same strong bond that you have,’ Dumbledore said, with a meaningful look at Harry. ‘Don’t let anything come between it.’

Hermione rushed forwards first, burying her crying face in Dumbledore’s beard before anyone could stop her, arms clamped round his middle in an undeniable vice grip. Ron rolled his eyes, but stepped forward to hug the headmaster nonetheless. Harry grinned at Dumbledore and received a bright, twinkling smile in return. He joined the hug and instantly felt enveloped in warmth and comfort.

_You need only have faith in yourself and your abilities, and trust in those around you._

 

Harry stepped through the portrait, unsure of what he would find within. He feared finding multitudes of candles and a Barry White record playing, with Severus waltzing out of his bedroom in a silken green robe. Thankfully, Severus’ quarters looked precisely as they always did, as did Severus. He was in the kitchenette, turned away from Harry. When Harry went to him, he turned and offered him a slender champagne flute, filled with the sparkling beverage. Raising their glasses, Severus offered a toast.

‘To new beginnings,’ he said quietly. They tinged their glasses together and drank a small sip.

‘So…’ Harry said coyly, ‘now that we’re not student and teacher anymore, what’s going to happen next?’

Severus took a deep drink from his champagne and smiled.


End file.
